


As Above, So Below

by 7_wonders



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/M, Hades & Persephone au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17962778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7_wonders/pseuds/7_wonders
Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the Dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.





	1. The Hour of Our Departure

The Prince of Hell has a secret. 

To be fair, Michael Langdon, the Lord of the Underworld, has many secrets. Those are secrets that he’d be proud to share, ones that would have creatures across all realms cowering at his feet in fear, awe, and envy. If this particular secret was to get out, he would be the laughing-stock of Hell. 

Michael Langdon has feelings for a human. He wants to shudder at the mere acknowledgement of that; he’s not supposed to have feelings of happiness, joy, or love. The only happiness he ever feels is when he’s watching the tormented souls of the damned burn in pits. But now, whenever he lays eyes upon this woman, this mortal, he can almost feel his heart start to beat. 

It’s ironic, to him, that one of the purest beings he’s ever seen lives next to a Hellmouth. Those who reside on the mortal coil know this particular portal as the Murder House, a structure in which his demons love playing. The house on one side is occupied by dust and rats, the old tenants having moved out when they saw the red skies and flocks of crows. On the other side, a house has been converted to a boarding house occupied by college students. College students are some of the best souls to take as they can be easily persuaded into dangerous situations, which has made for an enjoyable two years for some of his soul collectors working in this area. As far as the neighbors are aware, the so-called “Murder House” is undergoing a very, very long string of renovations. 

In all of Michael’s centuries of ruling Hell, he’s seen the Earth change immensely. Civilizations have rose and fallen, wars have been fought, people have been born and people have died. But never has Michael been as captivated by someone as he is by you.  
He often wonders what it is that draws him towards you. Is it the bright smile you always seem to have for him and everyone you pass? Could it be your choice of fashion, the pinks and blues and greens that adorn your body, so much different than his usual red and black attire? Your body itself is a whole different story for Michael. He’s seen some of the most beautiful women to ever walk the Earth, and yet they don’t hold a candle towards you. 

Michael Langdon can list a million reasons why he thinks that he loves you, which is why he’s hoping that you won’t come to hate him for what he’s about to do. Although the events soon to transpire have long since been prophesied, the idea of prophecies are a very difficult thing for mortals to understand. He stands in front of the ornate mirror, watching as two servants finish dressing him. They’ve decided on his finest cloak for this occasion, beautiful silver fastenings keeping it up around his neck. A simple black suit with a red tie accompanies a swipe of red powder on the inner corners of his eyelids. 

“Sire, are you sure that there’s no easier way to go about this?” Hecate, or Madison, as she preferred to go by nowadays, asks from the doorway. Michael glances at his most trusted advisor and longtime friend, shooing the servants away. 

“Trust me, I’ve been trying to think of other ways. I just can’t see her believing that I’m the God of the dead without thinking I’m a crazy person. I need to show her.” Madison rolls her eyes, stalking over to Michael to redo his crooked tie. 

“Just promise me that you won’t immediately resort to kidnapping a human woman and dragging her down here?” Michael shoots the woman a playful glare, batting her hands off of his tie. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a mean person.” Madison snorts at this, giving him one last glance before deeming him ready. 

“Alright, Mr. Nice-Guy, you’re ready.” Michael’s palms break into a sweat, which he didn’t even know was possible until now. Letting out two sharp whistles, he waits for the sound of paws bounding down the hall. Cerberus, the three-headed hellhound, tramples into the room and immediately sits, tail wagging behind him. 

“You wanna go up above, buddy?” Michael rewards the dog with a pet on each of its’ heads when he starts joyfully barking. 

“Ugh, you’re taking the mutt? That’ll impress her.” Madison scoffs, watching as Michael puts a glamour on the dog. Suddenly, the once-huge beast is now the size of a normal labarador, complete with one head instead of three. 

“(Y/N) likes dogs, and she’s met Cerberus multiple times.” When Michael turns his back, he hears what sounds like Madison coughing the word ‘whipped.’ He stiffens, but doesn’t turn around to take the bait. “You’re lucky I’m going to need you, or else I’d throw you in the ninth circle.” It’s an empty threat and they both know it. He and Cerberus make their way to the front of the palace, where there’s already a realm guard waiting to take the king to Earth. 

“Good luck. You’re gonna need it with those looks!” Madison takes one last shot. Right before Michael’s form disappears, he flips off the delighted goddess. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re sitting under the shade of the large oak tree in the front yard, humming softly and working on some homework, when barking makes you look up. A grin crosses your face when a large dog comes bounding out of the house next door, chasing a red bouncy ball. When the dog sees you, he immediately abandons his toy and charges towards you. Homework is suddenly forgotten when a giant mass of fur and slobber lands on top of you.

“Well, hello there Cerberus!” The dog sits next to you, nudging his head against your chin in an attempt to get petted. “Oh I know, it must be so rough being such a cute dog.” You oblige, gladly scratching behind his ear. 

“At least I don’t ever have to worry about him going too far when you’re out here.” You look up to see the man whose beauty rivals the sun. Michael, from what you’ve deduced, owns the house next door and is often over there performing renovations himself. You smile shyly, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull you to your feet. 

“Be careful or else I might not let him leave next time.” You joke. You can’t help but to take note of his runway-like attire, putting your plain blue jeans and pink blouse to shame. “How do you renovate a house in a cloak, exactly?” Michael looks down, as if noticing for the first time how overdressed he is. 

“I’m actually on my way to some business meetings. I had just stopped by to check on the new paint samples.”

“You seem to be making good progress on the house. Just last week it was new floors, right?” Michael nods, glancing from your face to the house. 

“Would you like to take a look around? There’s been a lot of changes since the last time you snooped around inside.” Your face grows hot at this. It had been a week after you first moved in with your new roommates. As a lover of the paranormal, it was basically impossible for you to not visit the infamous Murder House. When you had met Michael the following day, he mentioned that it was a delight to watch you ghost hunt through the security cameras, causing you to try and avoid him as much as possible until the embarrassment died down. 

“I thought the house was abandoned!” You make your case, taking Michael’s outstretched arm. “You’re always so proper, y’know?” 

“How so?” 

“I’ve never met a guy who wears cloaks and escorts women like he’s going to a gala, that’s all.” 

“I haven’t noticed that. I was just raised in a different time, I suppose.” You laugh. 

“‘Raised in a different time?’ Michael, you can’t be more than five years older than me.” He raises an eyebrow, almost challenging you. 

“Five years is quite a difference.” He jokes. Grabbing the key from one of his pockets, he unlocks the door and swings it open with a flourish. “Have a look.” 

The house really has changed since the last time you were here. Gone are the creepy murals with people dying, the mosaic windows and the wooden panelling straight out of the ‘70s. Now, the interior is clean, with wide windows, a stone fireplace and dark wood floors. 

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” You say in awe, taking in every inch of the beautiful house. “Think you’ll finally be able to sell it?” 

“I’ve actually become rather attached to this house.” Michael admits from the living room, where he’s glancing over some paperwork. Cerberus has settled on a rug, deciding now’s a good time for a nap. “I kind of want to keep it.”

“I don’t blame you.” An impish grin spreads on your face. “The ghosts haven’t scared you off?” Michael groans, playfully rolling his eyes. 

“I should have known you would ask about the supposed ghosts that haunt these halls.”

“You’re telling me that with all of the knocking down walls and changing the floor-plan of this place that you haven’t disturbed one of the souls that died here?” Michael has always been adamant that this is a perfectly normal house, albeit with a sordid history. “Just money-hungry people making up stories to get their fifteen minutes of fame,” he’s always responded to your questions. 

“I don’t believe in ghosts, (Y/N). Maybe they just don’t believe in me, either.” He deadpans. 

“Wow, you ever thought about motivational speaking?” You say sarcastically. “Did the city ever come to take away those weird jars with the body parts that Dr. Montgomery left here?” Dr. Montgomery, the ‘doctor to the stars’ in the ‘30s, ran a secret basement abortion clinic, where he also supposedly experimented with reanimation. It was gross, morbid, and a subject you were totally interested in. 

“They did. We actually just started on the basement. I’m pretty sure we got all of the creepy stuff removed, but if you want you can help me sort through the items previous owners have left here.” Your eyes light up at this. Getting to look through antiques that each had their own story is extremely enticing. Michael, having already seen the gleam in your eyes, makes his way to the basement steps with his usual hands-behind-his-back gait. 

The walk down to the basement is decidedly more creepy than the rest of the house. You’re not sure if it’s the general spookiness of basements or all of the illegal abortions performed down here, but you can feel a dark aura in the cavernous room. There’s an old claw-foot bathtub under one window, a couple of empty shelves, and a rocking chair that you swear is moving on its own. 

“Oh jeez.” You whisper. 

“Too scary for you?” A voice says in your ear. You jump, spinning and hitting Michael on the shoulder. 

“You asshole! You’re lucky I didn’t punch you in the nose.” He looks entirely unimpressed at this, but you pretend to cock a fist anyways. 

“Hmm, maybe next time. Most of the good stuff I’ve found is in this room.” Michael takes your shoulders and steers you towards a closed door at the opposite end of the basement. You’re not sure why, but a sense of dread fills you the closer you get to the door. 

“Michael, I think I need to get going.” You say quietly, the dread increasing. You try to maneuver out of his grasp, but his grip on you only tightens. 

“Just a little look, and then you can go.” Without anyone touching it, the door opens. Wind whips around you, a smell of- is that brimstone?- fills the air, and you can hear screaming from miles down. A cavernous pit stares back at you, its mouth wide and welcoming. You shriek and elbow Michael in the stomach. 

He doubles over in pain, allowing you your chance. You sprint for the stairs, tripping over Cerberus, who’s not sure why you’re yelling. You yelp when your palms scrape across the rough wood, ripping open the top layer of skin. There’s no time to waste, so you haul yourself back up and try to remember the way to the front door. 

“Help, he’s going to kill me!” You scream, hoping that one of your roommates will hear your calls and save you. The open front door slams shut when you’re mere feet away, startling you. A pair of strong arms wraps around you, picking you up like you weigh nothing and hauling you back downstairs. Michael ignores your screams completely, even trying to hush you.

“Michael, please don’t kill me. Just let me leave and I won’t tell anyone.” You mutter, twisting in his arms to look at his face. He smiles softly down at you, wiping the tears away from your face. 

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N). I’m sorry it had to happen this way, but I promise I’ll explain everything when we get home.” The wind is howling, your hair getting caught in Michael’s face. You don’t have time to question what he’s saying before he takes a graceful step over the edge of the pit, both of you falling down below.


	2. Hope You Guess My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being told that you're in the Underworld comes as a bit of a culture-shock to you...

You’re not sure how long you’ve been falling for; it feels both like seconds and hours, and it’s hard to tell with your eyes screwed shut. You only open your eyes when the wind stops whistling in your ears and you can feel ground under your feet. Michael’s smiling down at you, obviously enjoying your fear. It takes you a minute to process, but you shove Michael away from you when you collect your bearings. 

“Where the hell are we?” You scan the room you’re standing in, a large hall with classical architecture. Michael’s lips twitch, filling you with anger at his amusement towards this situation. 

“Exactly.” You throw your hands up in the air with a huff.

“That doesn’t make any sense! Michael, you need to take me home.” He looks confused at this. 

“But...we are home now?” You can’t stop your hand from reeling back and punching Michael in the face. His head snaps to the side. His hand comes up to touch his reddening cheek before he slowly looks at you. “You’re much more feisty than I was told you would be.” Grabbing him by the collar of his stupid cloak, you yank him down to your level. 

“You listen here. You’re going to take us to whatever hole you dragged me through, get me back to my house, and then I’m going to call the police and you’ll go to jail for kidna-” You don’t notice Michael bringing his hand to the back of your head. During your rant, he mutters a few words in an ancient language, knocking you out and sending you to the floor in a heap. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael grabs your limp body before it hits the floor, scooping you into his arms. “Achlys!” He calls. The minor goddess appears before his eyes, honey-colored hair swishing from the teleportation. 

“Yes?” 

“Take her to the chambers in the East wing, please. And alert me the second she wakes up.” Though Achlys looks small, she easily carries your body in her arms. 

“Of course, Master.” She disappears through the large doors at the end of the hall. Michael groans and runs a hand over his face. Stalking over to the drink cart, he grabs a glass of absinthe already prepared for him. 

“This was supposed to be easy.” He mutters. When a door slams, he flinches but doesn’t turn. 

“Hey, dumbass!” A sharp voice yells, echoing against the walls. Michael rolls his eyes before turning around. 

“Madison, listen-” A slap strikes him for the second time today. Michael rubs his jaw before glaring at the fuming woman. “I suggest you remember who you serve before you try that little trick again, Hecate.” The use of her old name sends the goddess of witchcraft cowering. 

“I-I’m sorry, Lord Hades. Please forgive me.” Michael rubs the bridge of his nose, taking a moment before grabbing her hand. 

“I’m sorry too. It’s just been a rough day.” Madison chuckles lightly, following Michael as he walks to his throne. The blonde man takes a seat on his obsidian throne, slinging his legs over the arm. 

“Obviously. Did you really have to kidnap her? What happened to explaining it to her while you were Above?” 

“I tried.” Michael hisses, downing the rest of his drink. A servant appears from thin air to refill Michael’s glass, grabbing one for Madison as well. 

“What’s your version of trying?” She knows that his plans tend to go off the rails, and this seems to be the case. 

“She likes paranormal things, so I thought that by showing her the Hellmouth, she would be more eager to go explore.” Michael explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. When Madison scoffs, he has case to believe that this wasn’t the best idea.

“You would think being around for millenia would teach you to think before you act!” The confused look on his face is answer enough. “She’s a human, Michael. Most sane humans, no matter how much they enjoy the paranormal, tend to be a little freaked out when they come face-to-face with an actual portal to the Underworld.” 

“I’m an idiot.” Madison doesn’t respond, but the look on her face is response enough. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“How about I see her when she wakes up, try and soften the blow a little bit? She might deal with the shock better if her kidnapper doesn’t show up.” 

“I didn’t kidnap her! It’s all a part of the prophecy!” Michael explains. 

“Again; your little mortal is human. Humans in today’s world don’t have any belief in prophecies.” The two immortals’ heads turn when the doors open and Achlys comes through. 

“Lord Hades, she’s awoken.” Michael sits up in his throne before remembering his advisor’s suggestion. 

“Thank you, Zoe. I’ll be there shortly.” Madison dismisses her friend (and sometimes lover). 

“Make sure to be careful, she might punch you.” Michael jokingly warns. 

“I’d be honored to be knocked out by the mortal who punch the Prince of Hell and got away with it.” Before disappearing, she winks. “Looks like you’ve finally met your match.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the past twenty minutes, the shapes around you morphing into people at some points. When you fully wake up, your first thought is how warm your bed is. Your next thought is that this isn’t your bed at all. You sit up suddenly, ignoring the head rush, and glance around in an attempt to find out where you are. 

“Mistress?” You jump once you notice the woman standing by the wardrobe. 

“Who are you? Where am I?” You ask. She smiles, stepping forward and curtseying. 

“I am Achlys, goddess of death mist. Most people today call me Zoe, though.” You stare at her with wide eyes before bursting into laughter. The woman-Zoe-looks concerned, and you really can’t blame her. “Mistress, are you alright?” You nod, wiping the tears that have formed out of the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh my God, there was so much wrong with that sentence. I mean, I have to give Michael props for coming up with such an...immersive kidnapping experience, but seriously? A goddess? You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Zoe.” You both look to the bedroom door, where a tall blonde in stilettos stands. “I’ve got it from here. Thank you.” Zoe nods, curtseying at you again before brushing hands with the woman. When the door shuts, you stand up. 

“Who are you?” She smirks. 

“I’m Madison. We’ve heard so much about you, (Y/N).” 

“So you’re in on this-this whole kidnapping scheme?” Madison chuckles, and you have to hold yourself back from punching her like you punched Michael. It’s a split-second decision, but you shove her to the side and run up to the door. You yank on it harshly, but it won’t budge. 

“Why don’t you sit down? We have a lot to talk about.” You don’t want to sit down, in fact that’s the exact opposite of what you want to do, but your legs have a mind of their own as they lead you to the bed. 

“H-how did you do that?” Madison sits next to you, reaching for your hands. 

“Dammit, of course he can’t do things the easy way.” She mutters. “So, my real name isn’t Madison. My given name, the one I am typically known as, is Hecate.”

You haven’t studied Greek mythology since elementary school, when everyone was obsessed with learning about the different gods and goddesses of a time long-gone. Even though it’s been years since you thought about the subject, you still remember a lot of the names, including this one. 

“Like...the Greek goddess?” You ask slowly. Madison nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re fucking with me. That’s not real, there’s no way.” 

“You’ve seen what I can do. You’ve seen what Michael can do too, is that right?” You shake your head. 

“No? Michael’s not-” The memory of you attacking him pops into your head. “Did he make me lose consciousness?” 

“Yes. Do you know who he really is?” 

“He’s not Michael?” You ask quietly. 

“He’s still the Michael that you know, (Y/N). But he, like me, has a different name. Michael is the one that mortals call Hades.” You look at Madison/Hecate with a blank look on your face. You want to call her bullshit, say that this is some elaborate ruse and bust out of the labyrinth that you’re trapped in, but you can’t. You saw the cave you were dragged into, felt the magic coming from multiple beings in this place. You’d be more crazy to not believe the woman at this point. 

“Holy shit.” You groan. “Are we in Hell right now?” Madison laughs. 

“We prefer ‘Underworld’ but technically, yes.” You fall back against the mattress, trying to digest all of this new information. 

“So did I get here through a portal? Why did that Zoe girl keep curtseying at me? Why did Michael drag me here? Can I go back home?” The questions start to flow out of your mouth rapidly before you can stop them. 

“Sorry, these are questions for Michael, speaking of which,” She stands, pulling you into a sitting position. “get dressed. Michael’s expecting you for dinner.” Madison opens the wardrobe in your room, already going through the clothes hung up there, but you remain on the bed. Who is this man (this god, technically) to kidnap you, answer questions through a third party, and demand that you join him for dinner? He may have got you down to the Underworld, but there was no way you’d make this easy for him. 

“No.” Madison turns towards you, two outfits in her hands. 

“What?” 

“No. I’m not going to dinner with him. I don’t care who, or what, he is. I’d much rather stay in here.” Madison looks stunned, and you’re assuming that nobody’s ever said ‘no’ to the God of the Dead. Without another word, she turns on her heel and leaves the room, clothes scattered on the floor. You scramble off the bed, locking the door quickly behind her. 

It’s a matter of minutes before there’s knocking on the door. You know now that Michael could easily unlock the door with his powers, but at least he’s some semblance of a gentleman. 

“(Y/N)? What’s this I hear about not wanting to join me for dinner?” You lean your head up against the door, and you can hear the chattering of multiple others outside. 

“No. I won’t join you for dinner.” You try as hard as possible to sound strong, but your voice still comes out as a squeak. 

“You don’t have a choice in this matter, my dear. Either you eat with me, or you don’t eat at all.” His voice is dangerously low, and your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Th-then I guess I won’t eat at all.” You press your back against the door when Michael bangs on it. 

“Then starve! See if I care!” 

“Oh, fuck you!” You’re proud of yourself for how steady your voice stays. After a few more angry bangs, he finally leaves. Sitting back on the bed, you allow yourself to cry for the first time since this ordeal began. From now on, you decide, you won’t let this captivity take hold over you. Even though you’re a prisoner in literal Hell, you’re going to do anything to gain what little control you possibly can.


	3. Tear In My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may be Michael's prisoner, but you're determined to make his life a living hell (pun intended).

Over the course of the next three days, when you’re not pacing the length of your room and refusing to see Michael, you’re constantly dreaming. Sometimes the dreams are scary, visions of people screaming, engulfed in hot flames while you’re falling. Other times the dreams are pleasant, ones where you’re laying against a tree in a sunny meadow, reading a book and listening to the sound of a far-off stream. No matter what the dream turns out to be, you always wake up with dried tear tracks on your face. 

You’ve slept the majority of the days and nights, trying anything to quell the pangs of hunger that gnawed at your stomach without actually giving in. Sometimes Zoe and Madison would stop in to see you, sneaking you bottles of water and trying to cheer you up. After the bumpy start to your relationships with both of them, they quickly became your allies in this literal hell. You appreciated their efforts, but at this point nothing was helping the shakes that had been wracking your body since yesterday and your ever-present headache. 

When the door opens, you’re facing away, having found that the pain in your stomach feels slightly better when you lay this way. The heavy footsteps make you tense up, your eyes widening. You try to make it seem like you’re asleep, but you know it doesn’t work when the bed dips and a hand rubs your back. 

“(Y/N), I know you’re awake. Can you turn around?” You’re determined to not turn around, but then the smell of food hits you and you can’t resist. When you do roll to your other side, your breath catches in your throat. Even though Michael kidnapped you and has kept you trapped here, his face still causes your heart to skip a beat. His baby blue eyes have a guilty look to them, his impeccable black suit causing them to stand out even more. You glance down to see that he has a plate of toast, along with some tea and fruit, on a platter. “You need to eat something.” 

“Thought I wasn’t allowed to eat until I came out of my room?” You accuse, a sour look on your face. Michael, very obviously trying to control his anger, sets his lips into a fine line. 

“That was before I knew you’d go on a full-out hunger strike. You’re really stubborn, you know?” He gestures towards the food, making it clear that you can go ahead and eat. 

“I’m not gonna touch that. I’ve heard the legends.” Michael looks confused, so you go on. “Y’know, if you eat food from Hell, or the Underworld or whatever you guys wanna call it, you’re stuck down here. I’m not letting you trick me again.”

“I love hearing how humans’ myths change over the centuries.” He chuckles. “It’s a fruit that only exists here from a single tree on the banks of the River Styx that keeps people here. This is just toast, strawberries, and raspberries.” 

You examine the food closely. It seems like he’s telling the truth, but at this point you’re not willing to trust anything that he says. Michael sees that on your face and sighs. 

“I can ask Madison to come in here and confirm that, if it would make you feel better?” The knowledge that he would ask the only person you trust here to quell your fears has you slowly reaching out and grabbing the toast. You almost let out a moan when you finally taste food for the first time in days, eagerly eating the entire piece in just a few bites. “Slow down, I really don’t need you getting sick.”

You glare but oblige anyways, taking smaller bites in between your sips of tea. When you notice that Michael’s been staring at you nonstop for a few minutes now, you begrudgingly push the tray away from you. 

“What?” You snap, watching as Michael’s look of contentment fades to a frown. 

“What?” He repeats back to you. 

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

“I’m just happy that you’re finally home.” You spring up from the bed, attempting to put distance between you and him. 

“This isn’t my home, Michael. I want to go back to my home, go back to my life. Besides, the police are probably looking for me. It’s been days, my roommates have definitely filed a missing person’s report.” You smirk triumphantly. 

“You’ll be pleased to know that time passes differently in this realm. What’s days down here is only minutes up Above.” Your face deflates at his statement.

“Why did you grab me and take me through that-that-”

“Hellmouth.” Michael fills in. 

“Hellmouth?” You finish incredulously, although that’s probably one of the more normal terms you’ve heard lately. 

“Because,” Michael crosses the room predatorily, his sharp gaze freezing you in place. “You belong here, (Y/N). You’re my queen, you’re meant to rule by my side.” 

A disbelieving laugh makes its way out of your lungs as you try to process what’s just been said. “I don’t know what Kool-Aid you’ve been drinking lately, but I’m nobody’s ‘queen.’ Kidnapping is still kidnapping, even if you’re certifiably insane!” 

Michael glowers at you, pulling himself to his full height and towering over you. You attempt to look as intimidating as possible, but it’s a little hard with your tangled hair that hasn’t been combed once since you’ve been here and the same wrinkled clothes you’ve been wearing for the better part of a week. 

“You listen to me. Prophecy or not, I will not tolerate your petty name-calling. I am the Lord of the Underworld, God of the Dead, and you will treat me with respect!” He glowers at you. You roll your eyes and throw open the bedroom door, hoping that you’ll be able to find Madison and have her back you up.

“What the fuck is up with you and this bullshit prophecy? You’re full of shit!” You yell over your shoulder, hoping that the fuming god can hear you. Waiting for a rebuttal, all you hear is a loud growl. 

When you turn your head back to the path ahead, your blood runs cold through your veins. A three-headed beast that reaches to the top of the cathedral-like ceilings stands twenty feet in front of you. It’s crouched down in what seems to be an attacking pose, and it’s making what kind of sounds like barking noises. Letting out an ear piercing shriek, you fall to the ground, attempting to crawl backwards. You close your eyes to embrace your fate, but all you’re met with is a laugh and somebody hauling you up. 

“It’s fine, (Y/N), open your eyes.” Michael says from behind you. 

“Get that-that thing out of here!” 

“It’s just Cerberus, he didn’t mean to scare you. He’s not used to you seeing him in his normal state.” You slowly crack your eyes open. Sure enough, the middle of the three heads looks just like the friendly dog you played fetch with multiple times in your front yard. He’s dropped to a sitting position now, all three heads whining sadly at your distress. You reach a hand out slowly, letting the large dog know you mean him no harm. 

“C-Cerberus?” You call out, watching the heads perk up. You can’t help but to glance back at Michael, who nods encouragingly. “Hey buddy, I’m sorry for that. Just not used to the two extra heads.” 

When he realizes that you’re not mad at him, the dog bounces over to you with a playful bark. You laugh loudly at the large tongues fighting each other to lick your arms, petting his leg, which is the only part of him you can reach. 

“Oh, thank the gods!” A voice exclaims from behind you. Cerberus backs off when you turn around to find Madison. “With all the screaming, I thought you guys had ended up killing each other.” 

“Ha, sorry about that. I’ve just never seen a three-headed dog the size of a building before.” You explain sheepishly, cheeks going red at causing a disruption. Madison smirks at you, but pushes past Michael anyways to check you over. 

“No offense, but you look like a mess.” You know it’s true, but it still stings a little to have the gorgeous woman in front of you critiquing your appearance. 

“Madison, don’t be rude.” Michael quips from behind her. 

“What? It’s true! She’s been wearing the same clothes since she got here, which would be fine if your mutt hadn’t just slobbered all over them.” She argues before turning back to you. “It’s good to see you’re done with starving yourself and decided to join us out here.” 

“I didn’t really have much of a choice. When it came to being out here, it was either that or listen to Mr. ‘Lord of the Underworld, God of the Dead’ spout utter nonsense.” You mock. 

“‘Utter nonsense?’” She questions.

“I don’t know, delusional ramblings about a prophecy and me being some sort of a queen. Only thing I’m queen of is eating an entire sleeve of Oreos in one sitting.” You roll your eyes, letting your sentence die out with a mumble. Madison stiffens before turning to look at Michael. 

“How, in all of the nine circles, have you not managed to have one decent, honest conversation with her since you brought her here?” She questions. You had expected her to also dismiss this talk as the ramblings of a disturbed individual, so the fact that Madison seems to be reprimanding him for a different topic is a little disconcerting.

“It’s not my fault! I’ve been told by everyone in my court to give her space, let her be, and look where that got us? She locked herself in her room and attempted to emulate Gandhi!” Michael argues. 

“You guys, I’m right here. Please stop talking about me like I’m not.” You say meekly. You’re really not in a position to be demanding that two actual godly creatures stop their bickering, so you hope that neither takes offense. The increasing numbers of beings (you would call them people, but they’re not. Not with their horns or their missing limbs, the odd colored skins and demonic faces that are so odd, you can’t even begin to describe them) is starting to intimidate you, especially when they stop to stare at you so openly. 

Michael glowers at his companion but concedes the stare down they had been having, making his way over to you. He grabs your hands in his, but drops them when you shudder at the touch. 

“I have to go meet with some of my advisors. I really do hope that you’ll join me for dinner tonight? You don’t have to, I’m not going to withhold food now that I know how stubborn you are.” You smile slightly at his admission, knowing that you won that battle. “If you do choose to dine with me, I can explain what’s going on, since we’ll have more time.” 

“Like...the so-called prophecy thing? And me getting to go home?”

“We will discuss the prophecy, but I can’t make any promises right now about you getting to go back Above.” You scrunch your nose up to stop any hot tears of anger from pooling in your eyes, not wanting to look weak. Michael recoils, almost as if he can physically feel the hatred coursing through you right now. “I’ll see you tonight then?” He asks softly. 

“Tonight, I guess.” You say tensely, watching as Michael nods.

“I’ll leave you with Madison, then.” He swiftly turns on his heel and marches down the hallway, chunky rings glinting in the light as he runs a hand through his hair. Madison whistles lowly when the Devil himself is out of your sight, slowly approaching you. 

“I never would have thought someone with such a lily-white soul could be capable of the anger I’ve seen from you since you arrived here. I must admit, I’m impressed.” 

“‘Lily-white soul?’ What does that mean?” Madison takes your arm, walking with you back to your room. 

“Living beings, such as yourself, often have auras attached to their mortal souls. It’s sort of a reflection to show your soul on the outside when you’re here. It makes it easier for Michael to do his judgements on the mortals that end up here. Yours is almost blindingly pure, which is obviously very unusual for Hell.” 

“Is that why all-”

“That’s why the demons, gorgons, everything in that hallway was looking at you. They’ve never seen an aura like yours before. Think of it as a moth being drawn to a flame.” She closes the doors to your chambers and disappears into thin air, reappearing with another woman. “This is Desa, she’s your handmaiden.” The small woman curtseys in front of you. 

“It’s an honor, Mistress.” 

“You can just call me (Y/N), seriously.” The handmaiden looks uncomfortable with this information, so Madison puts a hand on her shoulder and directs her to run you a bath. While she’s gone, you sit on the end of your bed, playing with your fingers. 

“Madison? Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” She sits beside you, black dress splaying out like there’s somebody hanging around to artfully display the fabrics. 

“Why won’t anybody just tell me what’s going on? I just want to go back home. I have a life there. School, a job, friends, family, they’re all up Above.” You use the term that Michael’s used to describe what you’re assuming is Earth. 

“I really wish I could tell you, but it’s not my place. Michael’s trying though, really. He’s never been good with women-”

“Obviously.” You snort, thinking of how you got here. 

“But I’ve known him for a very long time, and he is trying. Just keep pushing him, and I promise you’ll get your answers tonight. Now come on,” Madison pulls you to your feet, giving you a sense of deja vu. “If there’s one thing we don’t tolerate in the Underworld, it’s unnecessary messiness.”


	4. Me and the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with Michael does not give you the answers you’re hoping for.

The dress is gorgeous, made of some sort of fabric that you’ve never felt before. It’s a light blue outfit that falls to just below your knees, black embroidery stitched throughout the dress. It’s beautiful, and you feel entirely out of place in it. It feels too expensive for you to wear, and you almost feel bad for being the one that it’s tailored too. Surely, now that you know gods and goddesses are real, there’s some ethereal goddess out there that would be far more suited for this outfit than you. 

Never before have you been waited on hand and foot. Desa, who still has not stopped calling you ‘Mistress’ in the past thirty minutes, anticipates your needs almost before you can even think of them. She’s dedicated to her job in an obsessive way, her face paling when you had asked if there was a pair of flats you could wear instead of the heels that were supposed to be worn with the dress. After you requested that she stop yanking at your hair and just leave it natural, you were scared that the poor handmaiden would have an aneurysm. 

“Well, don’t you look like a water nymph.” Madison comments when she comes to lead you to where you’ll be dining tonight. 

“Is that a good thing?” You ask, slipping on your shoes. Shooting one last look at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but to pick apart your appearance. You almost feel like a fraud, being wrapped in the finest silks and treated with the utmost respect, things that you don’t deserve. 

“Yes, that’s a good thing. Stop critiquing yourself in the mirror, Michael would have a fit if he knew you were being harsh on yourself.” You roll your eyes, but step away from the mirror anyways. 

“It’s a good thing I don’t care how Michael would react.” You retort. Madison smirks, leading you through the winding halls that all look vaguely the same. Now that you have time to look your surroundings over, you’re convinced you’re in one of the large castles you’ve only ever read about. The dark stone hallways are lined with some of the most famous paintings throughout history, and a burgundy rug leads the way to your unknown destination. “How’d you know what I was thinking, anyways?”

“It comes with the territory of being the Goddess of Witchcraft.” 

“That’s so cool.” You grin. You’ve always been fascinated by the ideas of magic and witchcraft, so talking with the creator of the craft herself has you a little giddy. 

“Maybe I can teach you a thing or two, if you’re up for it?” Madison suggests. 

“Oh, that’d be wonderful, but I’m not a witch.” Madison gets a certain look on her face, almost as if she knows something that you don’t. 

“Everybody’s got a little magic in them, it’s just a matter of learning how to tap into it.” You want to question her, but are stopped when you reach a set of tall doors. With a flick of her dainty wrist, the heavy doors fly open like they weigh nothing. Michael stands waiting, wearing the same regal clothes he had been in earlier today. His eye makeup has been touched up, the fiery red bringing out the lighter hues of blue in his eyes. You briefly wonder what palette he uses before your attention is drawn back to the two in front of you. 

“My Lord.” Madison says politely, bowing her head as a sign of respect. You ponder if you should do the same, but decide against it when Michael approaches you. 

“Thank you, Madison.” His smooth voice dismisses her without his eyes ever leaving yours. His arm extends outwards, and you’re reminded of the exact same scene mere days ago, when he did the same gesture outside of the Murder House. “You look beautiful tonight.” 

Your tough facade cracks slightly at the compliment, cheeks turning red. “Thank you. You look nice, too.” Michael leads you to a long table, pulling out a chair for you. Once you’re settled, he seats himself across from you, smiling the entire time. The candles that light the room give off a warm glow, and you can’t help but to think that Michael set it all up to feel like a date. When the first course (some sort of soup that you can’t identify, but which smells delicious) is served, you look at Michael. He chuckles, noticing that you’re ready to talk business. 

“Not one for waiting until after a meal to discuss important matters, are you?” He observes, sipping from the wine in his chalice. 

“I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Michael sighs, displeased at you taking control of this meal. 

“Can I not just enjoy a peaceful supper with a beautiful woman?” 

“You promised me!” You have to fight to keep your voice level, not wanting to sound like a whiny child in front of this immortal god. 

“My dear, didn’t anyone ever tell you to not believe a word the devil says?” Michael’s lips curl into a wicked smile, sending a chill down your spine. 

“I was also told if I sat too close to the TV that I would go blind, and that didn’t happen, so I’m willing to take my chances.” That evil grin of his morphs into a dissatisfied smirk. You watch Michael take a deep breath, falling back into his chair almost dramatically. 

“Ask away, then.” His hand waves nonchalantly, even though you know that he’s secretly fuming. 

“Whenever I ask you why you took me, you say that it’s all a part of some prophecy. What prophecy? What do I have to do with it?” You take a sip your water, waiting for the man across from you to make his move. 

“In our society, the Oracles are divine beings who have the gift of Sight. These visions are what have guided us for hundreds of thousands of years, and they’ve proven without fail to be true, time and time again. The prophecy that involves you is an ancient one, having been foretold somewhere around four hundred and fifty B.C.” 

“So, while people like Alexander the Great were being told that they would conquer the world, there was also a prophecy about someone in the twenty-first century?” You say in disbelief.

“Your insolence towards this matter is charming, I will admit. However, if you wish to actually learn how you’re involved, you would be wise to shut up for a few minutes.” You sit on your hands to keep from snapping back and nod. “Anyways, it’s ironic that this particular prophecy concerns a god, since these are usually messages from gods to convey to their people. The prophecy roughly says that my kingdom will fall as the barrier that separates life and death fails and brings about the end of days. Life needs to balance out death in the Underworld, a statement which has vexed me for centuries. Zeus, who is an absolute pain in my ass, has refused to tell me what he meant when he gave this prophecy to the Oracles. I can practically see the gears in your head whirring, go ahead and speak.” 

“The end of days? Like the apocalypse?” You spit out, having been desperate to speak. Michael nods, his lips set in a grim line. “Why wouldn’t your brother give you the true meaning?”

“He’s not my brother!” Michael slams a fist against the table, causing the silverware to clatter as you jump. “I apologize. It’s a...sensitive topic, and this rumor has persisted throughout the ages.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, looking down at the new plate that appears in front of you. Some sort of meat and vegetables. 

“It’s alright, you weren’t aware. As I was saying, Zeus gave the Oracles another prophecy, one that further explained how to keep the world from ending. All of the prophecies were, of course, written in Ancient Greek, but this one’s easier to translate to English than the last one: ‘She whom Apollo smiles down upon, who can coax flowers to sprout with a simple glance. Blessed with a serene wisdom unmatched by any mortal, who walks with the purest of magic coursing through her veins. Very much alive, yet intimate with the dead. She shall be the bridge between the two planes of existence.’” 

The fork that you’re holding falls out of your hand, the harsh clank sounding through the dining hall. Out of all the possible prophecies that could have been written about you, this was not one that you were expecting. 

“That’s not me. That can’t be me!” You argue, shaking your head. 

“But it is you.” Michael calmly explains. He looks bored with this conversation, like you were just supposed to accept his words as law. 

“My name’s never mentioned. It’s all a load of shit. You have the wrong person.” 

“I knew that it was you the second you moved into that house. The magic that you possess is one-of-a-kind.”

“I don’t have any magic! I’m just a normal college student, my only concerns right now are passing my classes and graduating in four years. It’s just a fucking coincidence that I moved next door to your weird portal.” You stutter, chest heaving. 

“(Y/N), do you remember what you said to me the first day we met? Why you moved into that house instead of the apartment you were planning on living in?” 

“I thought I’d be lonely without any roommates?” 

“The other thing.” 

“I-I felt drawn to the energy of the house, it seemed interesting.” You recall. 

“Why are you so interested in the Murder House? Ghosts and paranormal activity?” He presses. 

“Stop it.” Your eyes fill with hot tears of anger as you glare at him. 

“Is it because you’ve seen ghosts before? Experienced things that couldn’t be explained away with science? You’ve always been connected to the spirit realm, ever since you were a mere child-”

“Stop it!” You shout, the chair screeching as you stand up. Michael smiles triumphantly, standing up from his own chair. 

“You’re angry because you know it’s true, yet you don’t want it to be.” He declares, moving gracefully around the table to stand in front of you. You face him, chin tilted upwards in order to make eye contact with him. 

“What happens if I choose not to accept the prophecy? When it turns out to not be true?” You question him. His lip curls into a sneer. 

“That’s not how prophecies work, my dear. Once they’re spoken into existence, it is going to happen. You cannot spurn a prophecy that directly involves you.” He speaks down to you as if he’s explaining this to a child. 

“What happens if I choose not to accept the prophecy?” You repeat, not taking your eyes off of him. 

“Then the apocalypse will happen, and the blood of billions of humans will be on your hands. Humanity will cease to exist, all because you cannot stand to think that you’ll be standing by my side as queen.” His voice thunders. You back away from him with wide eyes, shaking your head. 

“No.”

“Yes. When locusts swarm the Earth and the last dregs of humanity are hanging on by a mere thread, you’ll be forever reminded that it was all. Your. Fault.” 

“I can’t--it’s not--I’m--” You turn and sprint, Michael cackling behind you. 

“You cannot run away from this, (Y/N)! Your destiny will catch up to you, and you will be the one to rule beside me!” He calls after you. You throw open the doors, rounding the corner to try and get out of here. You almost run into Zoe, who has to jump out of your way to avoid being bowled over. 

“Mistress (Y/N)? Is everything okay?” You look at the woman with tears streaming down your face.

“I need to get out of here, I need to get back home. I’m so sorry.” You stutter, hands held out apologetically. You catch a glimpse of what looks like the night sky and bolt for the open gate. 

“(Y/N)! You can’t go out there, it’s dangerous!” You ignore Zoe, running past the guards and into the darkness outside. 

The grounds of the castle seem to stretch for miles, you note in despair. Using the well-beaten path as your guide, you start to run further away from the opulent home. Even as you put more distance between yourself and your prison, you can still hear the yells and shouts that are a direct result of Zoe alerting everyone that you had escaped outside. Your foot catches on a stray rock, sending you tumbling to the ground. Mumbling curse words under your breath, you pick yourself back up and decide to ditch the shoes you’re wearing. You slow to a walk, the pain in your side from lack of recent exercise inhibiting you from running longer. The air is colder than it had been when you originally bolted from the castle, and you wrap your arms around yourself in order to keep warm. 

A deep growl has you freezing in your tracks, breath suddenly coming out in visible puffs as the temperature continues to plummet. Something touches your shoulder, and a quick glance tells you that you’re in trouble. The long arm, if you can even call it that, is so skinny that it looks like mere bone. The sharp talons digging into your shoulder are stained with a sickening red, easily piercing through your dress. 

“A live one? It’s been a while since I’ve had a hunt.” A low voice rumbles, hot breaths assaulting your face with the putrid smell of death. 

“Please just let me go.” You whimper. The arm keeping you in place spins you around to face the creature, and what a hideous creature it is. 

Although the arms look like bone, the rest of the creature is a hulking mass. Skulls and bones of the human variety cover the dark blue skin, acting as some sort of armor against an enemy you’re not sure it has. The pointed teeth gleam by the subtle light from far-off torches, and you can see bits of a previous meal still trapped in the spaces between each tooth. The eyes are pure white, no pupil or iris to be seen.

“That’s the point of a hunt, isn’t it? So that I can enjoy chasing my prey down?” 

“P-prey?” Your voice quivers with fear as you refuse to blink for fear of being swallowed whole while you’re distracted.

“Normally, my meals are brought to me already dead. It’ll be so much more fun to kill my own supper tonight.” Even though you’re in Hell, you still send out a quick prayer in the hopes that maybe you’ll be listened to. 

“You can’t kill me!” You blurt out. The creature smirks, a long, forked tongue darting out to lick at your neck. The drool feels more like a thick slime, making you shudder with disgust. 

“Give me a good reason why? You taste so...delectable. The live ones always do.”

“Because I forbid it.” Michael appears behind the shoulder of the beast. He somehow looks even more intimidating outside of the walls of his castle, cloak billowing behind him and hellfire in his eyes. 

“Your Majesty. I found this little mortal wandering around the grounds, figured I would take care of the pest problem for you.” The creature yanks you forward, your dress tearing even more under the claws. 

“You know you’ve been forbidden from prowling anywhere but Tartarus and the surrounding areas, Eurynomos.”

“Of course, my mistake.” The two continue to stare each other down, refusing to make a move. 

“Hand over the girl.” Michael commands. He sounds like an actual king now, and he looks the part too.

“Can’t I have a snack for the road? It’s such a long journey back.” Eurynomos’ voice gets closer as his head lowers, getting ready to take a bite. 

“No.” Michael glowers, moving closer. 

“Not even an arm? What about a finger?” 

Michael’s eyes flash pitch black as he yells at the creature in an ancient language. The creature screams loudly as it’s engulfed in a flash of light, the impact throwing you to the ground. A shadow appears over you and you glance up to see Michael, standing with a hand outstretched. Your own hand shakes violently when you grab his, allowing him to pull you up easily. 

“Oh no, I ruined my dress. Madison’s gonna be so mad at me.” You mutter, looking down at the shreds of fabric hanging onto your frame. Michael snorts loudly, looking at you bemusedly. 

“Really? You just survived an encounter with one of the most lethal demons in Hell, and you’re concerned that Madison’s going to be upset about a dress?” You shrug before nodding, laughing lightly. 

“Kinda trying to not think about the fact I was almost eaten alive just now.” Michael frowns, studying you up and down. 

“You’re bleeding, (Y/N).” Sure enough, blood is staining your shoulder, and even your feet are scuffed and bleeding. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Michael himself insists on cleaning your wounds, shooing off all of the alarmed servants who had nonchalantly all decided to start cleaning in the direct path you were taking. Once you reach the seclusion of your own room, Michael busies himself with finding first aid supplies. You’re thankful that the slip you’re wearing survived the attack, your dress basically falling to pieces the second you try to take it off. 

“Guessing gods and goddesses don’t usually need help healing their wounds?” You ask when Michael finally returns with bandages and a bottle of some sort of antiseptic. 

“Not usually, no.” He suddenly looks extremely casual, just sitting on your bed rummaging through medical supplies, crisp sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His cloak had been used to protect you from the cold on the way back to the castle, and you had gone along with no protest. 

“This might sting a little bit, I’m really not sure.” Michael starts with the deepest cuts on your shoulders, gently dabbing the medicine on your injuries. You jump slightly at the cold, but aren’t bothered otherwise. It’s silent for a while, neither of you willing to start the conversation. Michael inevitably gives up when he finishes bandaging your shoulder and moves to the cuts on your feet. 

“How did you manage to get these?” He asks, pulling both feet onto his lap. 

“Tripped on a rock and figured it’d be easier to go on without shoes.” You explain lamely, examining a strand of your hair to avoid seeing his expression. 

“You know that you’re extremely lucky to be alive right now, correct?” You huff, your foot reflexively kicking out when Michael brushes against a ticklish spot. 

“I had a plan, I just hadn’t executed it yet.” Michael gives you a condescending glance. 

“Really? Because it looked to me like you were extremely close to becoming that demon’s supper.” 

“How did you even find me, anyways? Didn’t think you’d decide to come after me.” Michael, satisfied with his first aid work, moves the supplies from the bed to the floor. You slide your feet off of his lap, moving your knees in front of your chest. 

“He was violating his ban, he’s not allowed to be in this area of the Underworld and he’s well aware of that.” 

“But if it was a flesh-eating demon that was allowed to be hanging around here, I’d be dead meat?” You ask, smirking slightly when Michael rolls his eyes at your pun. 

“I came after you, does that make you happy to hear?” 

“Not really. You just want me alive because you think I’m what’s keeping the world from ending and your kingdom from falling apart.” Michael touches your shoulder, drawing your attention to him. 

“I shouldn’t have explained things to you the way that I did. I...understand that humans today don’t believe in the idea of prophecies, and I was wrong to be as harsh as I was when you were questioning the validity of the prophecy. I apologize for that.” 

“Thank you Michael, I really appreciate that.” 

“We have a vast library here, one with works spanning through the ages. If you’d like, tomorrow you can explore it? Maybe you’ll manage to find something to help the issue of freeing you from this prophecy without the world ending.” You perk up at the mention of a library, already thinking of all the books you can peruse. “Don’t get me wrong, what you did today was incredibly stupid, and it’s sheer luck that you didn’t get yourself killed. When you’re told not to do something, I expect you to listen from now on. There’s things far worse than Eurynomos beyond these grounds.” 

You really don’t like being talked to like a child, but you bite your tongue to avoid another fight. “I won’t, don’t worry. I really don’t have the desire to go out there alone anymore, especially since I can find a way home right here.” His face falls slightly, but he nods.

“Tomorrow, then.” 

“Why tomorrow?” 

“It’s late, and humans need their rest.” Michael teases, making you frown slightly. 

“Do gods not need to sleep?” 

“We enjoy sleeping, but we don’t require it to function like you do.” He takes your hand gently in his, pressing a kiss to the back. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Night, Michael.” He sends one last smile your way, shutting the door behind him. When the adrenaline finally dissipates from your body and exhaustion takes over, you don’t fall asleep crying for the first time since you’ve arrived here. Now that you know there might be a way to get back home, you’re willing to play nice and bide your time until you find a solution.


	5. Devil's Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael needs to adjust his game plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, glad you've been enjoying this fic so far! You can follow me on Tumblr @7-wonders to see more of my work, and make sure to let me know what you thought of this chapter. I'm still getting the hang of formatting on this website, so sorry if the layout changes a little bit.

Michael stifles a groan when he arrives to the throne room, having half a mind to just turn around and go to his own quarters. Madison’s already there, smug and making herself right at home on the obsidian throne. Zoe lounges in her lap, the two giggling and sharing quick kisses.

“Get off of my throne.” Michael grumbles, watching as the two goddesses spring up merrily. When Madison opens her mouth, Michael holds a hand up. “I don’t even want to hear it.” He knows that he fucked up tonight, and he knows that he probably should have thought things out more than he did. Still, he’s definitely not in the mood for Madison to make fun of his mistakes.

“I wasn’t going to be mean to you. In fact, I pity you more than anything else.”

“Gee, thanks.” Michael says dryly, wondering how long it would take Madison to crawl her way back if he were to throw her into one of the pits of suffering. Probably only a week or two, unfortunately. It seems like every time he does snap, she makes it out quicker than ever before.

“I have a serious question: When was the last time you were even in a relationship? I legitimately can’t remember.” Thinking for a moment, he realizes that he can’t remember off the top of his head the last actual relationship he was in. Sure, there’s been one night stands with random nymphs, but pleasure was most nymphs’ jobs. After another moment, a name pops into his head.

“It had to have been Minthe, I think?” Madison immediately screws up her face in disgust.

“Of course it was. Explains why I didn’t remember, she’s so terrible I must have blocked the memory of her for my own safety.” She jokes. It was no secret that nobody on Olympus approved of Minthe, or of Hades’ relationship with Minthe. After that affair had fallen apart, Michael was pretty sure that many of the gods and goddesses threw an actual party celebrating the break up, although he still can’t be sure.

“Don’t remind me.” It had been a bad decision on his part, of course, and the memories of that conniving, manipulative woman were still painful to think about.

“So, not only are you not experienced with relationships, but the one relationship that you did have was a toxic one?” Zoe muses, cringing when she thinks she may have spoke out of turn.

“You would be correct.” Michael confirms.

“And that’s where we come in. Michael, we really do want to help you. Prophecy or not, it’s obvious that you’re head over heels for (Y/N), you just don’t know how to properly show feelings.” Madison says.

“Just because you’re the God of the Dead doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be in a happy relationship.” A voice booms as the doors are flung open. Thanatos strides in, a wide grin on his face. To those who had never seen him before, a smiling man with empty eye sockets would surely be the beginning of a horror movie. His friends in the Underworld, however, are used to it. He is a lumbering figure, taller than even Michael, with dark brown skin and cropped hair. While many of the other gods had taken modern names to adapt to the changing times, Thanatos refused. Being the God of Death, he thought his name was perfectly fitting.

“Slow day Above?”

“Probably a good thing after all of the recent hurricanes. The scales need to balance themselves out.” Thanatos muses before turning back to Michael. “With all due respect, my Lord, your loneliness has made you bitter.”

“I am not bitter!” Michael argues, eyes dangerously flashing.

“You literally glare whenever you see two people acting slightly romantic, including me and Zoe.” Madison crosses her arms in front of her. “We’re not saying this as your advisors, we’re saying this as your friends. We want to see you happy, and it’s been rough watching you strike out repeatedly lately.”

Michael ponders this impromptu ‘intervention’ by the people who know him best. The three have been helping Michael with the Underworld for thousands of years. They had seen the best and the worst of him, and he knows that they’re only trying to help.

“Alright, then. Help me win (Y/N) over.” Madison claps her hands together while Zoe squeals in excitement.

“Thank goodness, I thought I was going to have to go to Olympus to get away from this trainwreck.” Madison mutters, grinning when Michael rolls his eyes. With a snap of his fingers, the four are transported to the library, a more casual setting where they can all have seats instead of standing around while Michael sits.

“First things first,” Thanatos grabs a chair and sits on it backwards. “The whole ‘superiority’ thing doesn’t work with the mortals anymore. It’s all about being subtle.”

“‘Superiority?’” Michael repeats, taking a seat by the fireplace. “I don’t-”

“All gods do it, whether they know it or not.”

“You have your own castle and subjects. Whether you like it or not, you believe that you’re superior to most. Mortals today are all about equality and revolution. I don’t know if you keep up-to-date on current events Above, but they’re always protesting. They hate the fact that some people believe they’re better than everyone else just because of their position of power.” Zoe explains helpfully.

“So that fight you had with (Y/N), the one where you demanded she treat you with respect because you’re Lord of the Underworld? Better to not use that as an argument.” Madison chimes in.

“But then how do I rule my kingdom without exerting my superiority?” Michael asks.

“A little benevolence wouldn’t kill you.”

“I’m nice to my subjects!”

“Last week I saw you banish a soul to their personal Hell just for not paying parking tickets. It’s getting a little out of hand.”

“Fine, be nice. I can do that! I can be nice to people!” The room falls silent as the trio awkwardly smiles at Michael. “I can be nice to people.” He reasserts, cringing when doubt laces his voice.

“Just...think about things a little more before you act. ‘Treat others as you want to be treated?’” Thanatos suggests. Michael nods, mulling over the constructive criticism.

“Alright, so be nice? Then she’ll finally be mine?” Madison and Zoe share a knowing glance between each other, infuriating Michael.

“That’s a good start, but you need to show that you actually like her, and not just because she’s involved in the prophecy. Great job with that, by the way.” Madison bites sarcastically.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to be mean?”

“It’s just so hard when the opportunity presents itself. Anyways, it’s the little things that you do that really show how much you care. When you complimented her dress? That was great. You’re very charming, your main issue is just that you undo it with the whole jerk attitude.”

“So...compliments?” Michael asks. If that’s all it takes, then his job’s going to be a lot easier than previously thought.

“That’s one way.” Zoe says. “Find some common interests, maybe spend some time together that’s not a formal dinner? Do some things to brighten her day! This goes back to the common interests thing, but if she mentions that she likes something, surprise her with it if it’s nothing too much.”

“You’re very good at this.” Michael points out, making the minor goddess blush.

“It’s how I wooed her in the first place.” Madison interrupts with pride, kissing Zoe on the cheek. Michael wants to make a mean comment, but his lovestruck heart hurts at seeing how happy the two are. Disgusting, he thinks.

“I can do this.” He convinces himself with a nod.

“Maybe a smile once in a while might help too?” He smiles mockingly, but knows it comes out as more of a grimace. “We’ll work on that.”

“Just don’t be too intense! Nothing is creepier than a guy who’s almost stalker-ish.” Thanatos suggests.

“Be nice, but subtle.” Michael connects the two points from earlier, making his friends nod with pride.

“Exactly!” Zoe cheers. Before your arrival, she was known as the happiest being in Hell, the irony not being lost on anyone. “Once (Y/N) wakes up, though. Waking up a mortal is probably not the best way to win them over.”

* * *

 

There’s no light filtering through the curtains when your eyes finally flutter open, the Underworld being in a perpetual state of night. You’re not quite sure what time it is, although your body’s clock insists it’s morning. Maybe it is actually the morning; you feel unusually well-rested, and time down here is so strange anyways that it very well could be. Stretching your arms above your head, you relish in the popping noise your shoulders make. A knock sounds at the door, and you push yourself into a sitting position with a yawn.

“Come in!” You call, smiling when Desa pushes open the door. Her sleek black hair ends just below her chin, the first time you haven’t seen her hair in a bun.

“Did you sleep well, (Y/N)?” You happily note that she actually calls you by your name today instead of referring to you with a proper title you don’t have.

“I did. What time is it?”

“With the way mortal time works, I’d say it’s roughly ten in the morning?” Desa guesses after thinking for a moment.

“Any chance you could find me a clock?” Desa smiles as she walks to your wardrobe.

“I’ll see what I can do, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. Now, any preferences for your outfit today?”

Apparently there’s no jeans in Hell, so you make things work with a pair of leggings and a too-large sweater. The handmaiden, bless her heart, tries her best to mask her shock at your choice of casual clothing, all too used to the goddesses who insist on being dressed in nothing but the finest dresses. Sliding on a pair of flats, you get led to the kitchens to see if you can find something normal to eat. The kitchen staff must have gotten some sort of memo that you hate being bowed towards, since they all greet you with stiff smiles before going back to their work.

You stand in a corner, awkwardly surveying the landscape of the large kitchen to see if there’s anything you can just quickly grab. Spotting a plate of pastries on a counter (maybe muffins? You’re really not sure; all the food here looks the same, yet different from the food you’re used to), you swipe one from the top of the pile before heading out the door. Meandering down the hall, you take your time to observe the creatures that flit past you, all on their ways to do something to keep the kingdom running. The paintings that line this particular hall are a little more sinister than the Monet’s you had seen yesterday, depictions of wars and death painted on the canvasses.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.” A voice croons in your ear, causing you to jump and nearly throw the half-eaten pastry in the air. Whipping around, you come face to face with Michael, very amused at your reaction.

“Jerk!” You playfully punch his chest, missing the way his eyes light up at your joking manner. “Why do you enjoy scaring me so much?”

“Because you’re the only one who can’t sense when I’m coming.”

“Just you wait, I’ll end up getting you back and then you’ll see why I jump so high.” You declare.

“I eagerly await the day you manage to sneak up on me.” You’ve been having this conversation in the middle of the hallway, and you redden when you realize that everybody’s having to walk around you. You pull Michael towards the wall, letting the staff get on with their day.

“I believe you promised me a library would be involved today?” You remember suddenly, last night’s conversation flashing through your mind.

“I believe I did. Do you mind if I accompany you there, or would you prefer I have somebody else escort you?” You’re mildly shocked at Michael actually caring about what you want, a first for him.

“Lead the way.” You extend your arm, gesturing for him to start walking. You follow next to him, watching at the way those who fill the castle stare reverently at their ruler. What you’re assuming to be a demon, given the black eyes and horns sprouting all over his body, appears next to Michael.

“Judgements in an hour?” He asks for confirmation, waiting until Michael gives a curt nod. “Thank you, Lord Hades.” He disappears just as fast as he had shown up, leaving your head spinning.

“So you do have other things to do when you’re not kidnapping mortals?” You tease.

“Being a god isn’t all parties and self-indulgences, I’m afraid. It takes quite a lot to run the Underworld, which is probably why I’m seen as sullen and reclusive.” He laughs, but you can easily hear the bitterness that laces it.

“What are judgements?”

“It’s when the souls of the recently departed are presented to me, and I judge where they go after death.”

“I thought this place was just...Hell?”

“I’m the God of the Dead, which means I receive all of the dead. There is Hell, yes, but there are also afterlives for those souls who lived good lives.”

“Interesting.” You muse, thinking about how everything you thought you knew probably isn’t true.

“You’re wondering about your idea of Heaven and Hell.” It’s not a question, and you’re honestly not sure whether the thought was readable on your face or if Michael can just read minds. “It’s a very complicated matter, but to put it simply: The idea of some sort of Heaven and Hell do exist, mortals got that much right.”

“Not gonna lie, all this is pretty trippy.” He looks confused, so you elaborate. “We were always told all of this was fake, just things that people from ancient times believed. It’s a little difficult to get used to, especially after growing up with these completely different ideas.”

“Monotheism is a funny little thing. The idea that one singular being could possibly control everything.” Michael scoffs, obviously not pleased. You stop at a pair of doors, the situation reminding you of dinner the previous night. Michael doesn’t even have to move for the doors to open, the mere thought of doors opening being enough to force them apart. You can’t stop yourself from drifting in ahead of him, in awe at the sheer size of the library. If you had thought universities’ libraries were large, they paled in comparison to Hell’s.

The shelves all reach the ceiling, and go on for what must be blocks. Black metal staircases allow access to the second floor, and your head cranes upwards to see how far up everything goes. A large fireplace sits in the middle of the room, tables and chairs placed in front of it. You almost forget Michael’s there. Almost.

“You can touch the books, they’re not just there for decoration.” He speaks from behind you. You roll your eyes, not tearing your eyes away from the room for fear of missing some other amazing thing.

“Not all of us have seen libraries like this.” You mutter.

“How many books are here?”

“It’s not just books. There’s scrolls, writings from ancient scholars and notes from long-ago cabinet meetings. I honestly don’t know how much is here. The works are so vast and from so many different eras that it must number somewhere in the millions.” You want to retort, to make fun of how he’s so pretentious that he doesn’t even know the contents of his own library, but you just can’t.

“This is magnificent.” You breathe, turning around to face him. The wide grin on your face causes a small smile to appear on his own, your joy palpable.

“I’m glad you like it. You’re free to use it whenever you’d like, for however long you’d like.” You feel an urge to hug him, but since you’re not too fond of hugging your kidnapper, you nod.

“Thanks for this. Seriously, this is...just amazing.” Michael’s smile morphs into a frown, and you realize how much time has passed since his demon reminded him about his commitments.

“I’m afraid I must leave you now. Have fun exploring, though. Are you going to be okay by yourself?” He asks in concern. You wave a hand in the air, obviously not concerned.

“I’ll be fine, I can handle myself. Go deal with all the ghosts.” You smirk, remembering how fervently Michael had denied the existence of spirits and life after death. Michael huffs lightheartedly, nodding.

“Until next time, (Y/N).” You give an awkward two-finger salute as a goodbye, mentally kicking yourself immediately afterwards. _Fucking dumbass, who says ‘bye’ to a god the same way they do to their friends?_ The doors close, and you immediately start to move, hands tracing along the spines of various works as you try to decide the best place to start on a plan to get you back home.


	6. Darkness Surrounds Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking a break from your search for a way back to your normal life, you decide to go exploring in the rest of the castle. You really should have been more prepared for what you find.

Books are scattered all over the main table in front of the fireplace, with topics ranging from Ancient Greek mythology to modern-day law. You’re not really sure if contract law applies to the Underworld, but you’re determined to try. Spending all of yesterday and part of today in the library hasn’t been terrible, but you’re frustrated that you haven’t managed to find anything to help you with your plight. 

“Desa?” You call out. You don’t know how, but you’ve learned that she can hear whenever you call. Sure enough, the handmaiden appears in a split second. 

“Yes?” Rubbing your tired eyes, you stand. 

“What else is there to do here for a mortal girl like me? Is Madison busy? She offered to teach me some magic.” 

“Lady Hecate is dealing with business at the River Styx right now, I’m afraid.” You nod, disappointed but understanding. 

“Well, what else? Am I allowed to explore?”

“Of course. If...you end up not finding a solution and choose to stay here, you will also rule the Underworld.” She takes great care to not upset you with the bleakness of your situation, which you’re very thankful for. 

“Is there anywhere that’s off-limits in the castle?” 

“I would suggest staying out of the throne room right now, King Hades is in a meeting with some of the more powerful demons. I also strongly urge you to stay away from the corridors south of the kitchen.”

“Why?”

“The things down there, while not harmful, are very distressing to see. Most staff won’t go there, only Lady Hecate and King Hades have visited frequently. Other than those two areas, the castle is yours.” 

“Thank you, Desa.” She disappears with a nod of her head, leaving you smiling at the interaction. You’ve grown fond of your handmaiden and her advice. Marking your place in the last book you had open, you stack them all neatly on the table before heading out the door. 

The Underworld, for being the final home of the dead, always seems to be buzzing with energy. You’ve also noticed that you attract quite the crowd of...you’re not quite sure what to call them. Ghosts? Spirits? The souls of the damned? Whatever they are, they seem to follow you around when you take to wandering the hallways, seeking the warmth of your aura. They’re not harmful, and they don’t say anything, but you wish that they would so this would be less creepy. Today, you want to try and figure out the layout of this place. You’ve only been to a few areas of the palace, and usually somebody has been with you to guide you. 

There’s so many hallways, and it’s difficult at first to remember where you are. After a few more halls, you’re starting to develop a mental map, using characteristics of each location to give a name to said spot. Just when you think you’re getting the hang of your temporary home, you end up in a completely different area from your intended destination. Huffing, you turn in a circle in an attempt to find a way back to where you meant to go. Childish giggles have you stopping, and a grin spreads across your face when you see a flash of a shadow disappear around a corner. A ball rolls towards you from the other side of the wall, and you lean down to grab it. 

Tossing it back down the hall, a small hand reaches to grab it quickly. You hear laughing, and someone shushing the other who was making the noise. Holding in your own laugh, you creep towards the other hallway, trying to be as silent as possible. 

“I thought I heard something from over here!” You jump out, eliciting playful shrieks from the three children in front of you. They’re all very different; a translucent little girl with tight braids and a gap between her teeth who floats above the ground, another girl with deep red eyes and tiny horns poking out of the snakes that make up her hair, and a boy who looks completely human. 

“It’s all your fault, you’re the one who laughed!” The boy argues. 

“Nuh-uh, Euryale threw the ball!” A wavering hand points to the other girl, who then sticks out her tongue. The snakes on her head copy her action, forked tongues pointing towards the two children. 

“It’s okay guys, I’m not mad!” You kneel down to be level with the children, who all look eagerly towards you. “Where are your parents?”

They all talk at the same time, and you make out that the snake-headed girl named Euryale has parents who are banished, the ghost-girl’s parents are conducting business with Michael, and the little boy doesn’t have parents. 

“Do you wanna play with us?” Euryale asks. 

“She’s a princess, she doesn’t have time to play!” 

“Shut up, Samael!” The boy with the jet-black curls and beautiful dark eyes screws up his face in anger. Suddenly, his skin turns to the color of chalk, cracks marring his face and his eyes going completely black. 

“No, you shut up, Desdemona!” He roars with what sounds like five different voices. The lights flicker above you, and you grab the demon baby by his arms. 

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay!” Slowly, his face turns back to normal. He’s sniffling, tears of anger tracking down his face. “There’s no need to get upset like that, okay? You can disagree with a person without having to get angry.” Samael nods, understanding what you’re saying. 

“Sorry, Samael.” Euryale says, eyes turned to the ground. 

“Sorry, Samael.” Desdemona repeats, floating next to her friend. 

“Good, thank you girls for being so nice. Now, what game were you thinking of playing?” Their little faces light up in excitement, pleased to have a new person to play with. A game of hide-and-go-seek is decided upon, and you’re the one who’s meant to seek. You place your hands over your eyes and start to count, the giggles fading as the kids hurry to find their hiding spots. When you get to thirty, you open your eyes and scan your surroundings. They’re good at this for their (assumed) ages, having actually hid instead of just standing behind a curtain. 

Starting your walk, you try to think where a kid would hide in a building of this size. It’s extremely quiet in the area of the castle that you’ve been led to on your chase, and you’re not sure if this is helping you or hurting you. There’s not any closets to hide in, so you continue to search for them. You’re about to turn around and head in the opposite direction when you notice an opening you’ve never seen before. Glancing in, you find a hallway that looks nothing like the other ones. The ceiling, walls, and floor are all formed out of something that looks like black marble, the light of the torches bouncing off the surface. Doors line the walls, stretching for what seems to be miles. Something in you is screaming to not go any closer, to turn around and run to a safe area, but you’re too intrigued to give up so easily. Besides, the kids won’t mind if you leave them hiding a little longer, thinking that they’re masters at concealing themselves if you take your time finding them. 

The hallway’s colder than the rest of the castle, and you shiver slightly at the goosebumps forming under your long-sleeved dress. All of the doors look the exact same, with nothing to differentiate one from the other. Drifting down the hallway, the light from the entrance starts to fade away. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you feel yourself being pulled towards something that must be further in. You realize that you don’t know how long you’ve been in here for once you stop in front of a door. It doesn’t look any different than the other doors you’ve passed, but you just know there’s something in there that you have to see. Placing a hand on the doorknob, you’re surprised when it swings open easily without the need for a key. 

When you first look in, it’s just a white room. You’re mildly disappointed, but your eyes widen in shock when you blink and the scene changes. Suddenly, there’s a high school biology classroom in front of you. The smell of formaldehyde attacks your nose, the source being the dead frogs on each lab table. Students have their heads down, either writing on a worksheet or cutting into the frog. You were lucky that you never had to dissect a frog, that project being reserved for the Life Sciences elective upperclassmen could take. You step into the room, not noticing the door closing behind you. 

Nobody even realizes that you’re here, and you’re starting to wonder what this has to do with the Underworld when you see her. An adult woman with curly blonde hair and a floral shawl who obviously doesn’t belong in this class. She’s shaking, her hands hovering above the now-live frog laying on the surface. A boy in front of her shakes his head in disgust, looking at the woman. 

“Freak!” He taunts, before calling for the teacher. The teacher marches over to see what’s going on, snapping at the boy when he tries to explain how the frog was brought back to life. 

“If she won’t dissect a dead frog, then she can dissect a live one.” He declares, grabbing the scalpel and shoving it into the woman’s hand. You watch in horror as tears fill her eyes while she pleads with the teacher to not make her do this, that she can’t kill a living thing. She cries out when the teacher forces her hands down to the frog, slicing it right down the middle. You can’t stop yourself from rushing over to her, moving around the tables easily. 

“Are you okay? Why are you here?” You ask, touching her cheek to get her to look at you. She does, watery eyes scanning over you. 

“This is all wrong.” She mutters in a Southern drawl. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You’re not supposed to be here. You haven’t been here before. Who are you?”

“I’m (Y/N). Who are you?”

“Misty, Misty Day. Have you come to save me, (Y/N)?” Your brows furrow at her question. 

“Save you?” She nods, a wobbly smile on her face. 

“From my personal hell. I’ve been stuck here for so long, and I just wanna go home.” You’re about to answer when her eyes go distant and she looks down. Her hands move above the frog as she brings it back to life again. You realize that the scenario has started over again, the boy sitting across from Misty yelling for the teacher just as he did minutes ago. He starts arguing again, insisting that she dissect a live frog. 

“Hey, stop it!” You can’t stop yourself from yelling, attempting to get in between the two. It’s as if you don’t exist, the teacher seeing right through you as he grabs the scalpel and forces it into Misty’s hand. You have to intervene, and you reach for Misty’s hands at the same time as the teacher was. You grapple for the scalpel, determined to make sure she doesn’t have to go through this experience anymore. “Stop, she said she doesn’t want to kill it!” 

The teacher goes still, but not because you managed to reason with him. Instead, his eyes roll back into his head and he falls to the ground, allowing you to see Michael standing behind him. His hand is bloody, holding the still-beating heart of the teacher that now lays on the ground below you. The students are all frozen, eyes white and heads tilted back as you realize that Michael’s the one commanding this scene. Tossing the heart to the floor, he reaches over and grabs a towel from the table to wipe his hand clean of blood. You and Misty both stare at him in shock, waiting for some sort of explanation. 

“Michael, we have to save Misty! She’s been stuck here for so long, being forced to kill and bring a frog back to life over and over again. We need to help her.” You plead, reaching for his arm. He looks at you with a look you can’t really decipher before sighing. 

“We can’t do that, (Y/N).” 

“No, please take me with you! I can’t do this anymore, I need to go home! Cordelia must be missin’ me fiercely right now, and my swamp has been left alone for too long.” Misty appeals as you nod beside her. 

“ _ Please _ , Michael.” You’re close to resorting to begging, knowing that you can’t leave Misty behind. 

“(Y/N).” He says, eyes flashing dangerously. “I know you want to help her, and I’m not doing this to be mean, but this cannot happen. It’s not how things work. We need to leave, and she needs to stay here.” You want to argue with him, but you know that he’s trying to get you out before something bad happens. Your eyes tear up as you shake your head. Turning to Misty, you see she’s in the same state. 

“I’m going to get you out of here, I promise.” You wrap the woman in a hug, hoping that she knows how sincere you are. “Please don’t forget that.” You’re torn away from her by Michael, who grabs your hand in his. 

You’re forced to watch as the scene resets the second you step away, the teacher reanimating like nothing happened and reaching for Misty’s hands yet again. Misty sobs when she cuts into the frog, and you sob along with her as you watch the door close on her. Pounding your fists against Michael’s firm chest, he simply holds you still and allows you to take your anger out on him. 

“Why couldn’t we save her? She’s stuck in her own personal hell!” You cry. Michael pulls you away from him slightly so that you can look at him, and you notice that you’re no longer in the black hallway. 

“Yes, she is. She knew the consequences of failing the test of Descensum, and this is that consequence.”

“What’s Descensum?” You ask, wiping the tears away in anger. 

“It’s a part of the Seven Wonders, seven skills that witches attempt. Only one witch can master all seven of the wonders, and that witch becomes the Supreme, the one to rule all the other witches. Descensum involves descending into the Underworld and navigating through their personal hell. If they return to their bodies, they’ve passed the test. If they don’t, they’re stuck in that hell for the rest of time.” 

“Were all of those doors people’s personal hells?” You ask, voice shaking in horror as you recall just how many doors there were. 

“Yes. Not all of them are witches, though. Many of them are bad people, others ‘sold’ their souls and this is their payment.” 

“So why do the witches have to be stuck if they fail? They didn’t do anything that would leave them there otherwise.” You argue, trying to find some loophole for Michael to let Misty go back to where she’s from. 

“Witches have a...sort of business deal with Hecate. In exchange for powers, Hecate can call upon them if and when they’re needed. Descending into Hell is an extremely risky thing, and th-”

“I understand.” You cut Michael off, not wanting to hear anymore about how these witches are given their powers and the consequences of trying to stretch the limits of said powers. “Can you take me back to my room now? I don’t really know how to get back from where we are.”

Michael wants to say more, to make you understand that he isn’t some heartless monster that enjoys seeing the pain and suffering of people (all the time, at least), but you just look so defeated that he can’t help but to nod. You’re not that far from your room, so he walks you there instead of transmutating. Walking to your bed, you don’t even bother to take your shoes off before laying on the bed. You’re curled away from Michael, who remains standing a few feet away from you. He’s faced with a dilemma; try and comfort you, which is something he’s obviously not good at, or leave you alone to wallow in your sorrow. After a quick inner debate, he decides on the former. 

“(Y/N)?” Michael settles next to you on the bed, placing a hand on your shoulder when you don’t flinch away from him. “(Y/N), I’m sorry that you had to see that. Truth be told, I didn’t think that you would see that for a while.”

“You guys are monsters.” You mumble, still not looking at him. 

“I know it may seem like that, but I promise you we’re not.” 

“Oh yeah?” You sit up, glaring at Michael. “You prey on a person’s worst fears just to torment them for the rest of time. I know that you’re the one who decides where everyone goes after they die, and from what I’ve seen it wouldn’t surprise me if no one ends up in whatever the fuck ‘Heaven’ is considered to be down here. Let’s also bring up the fact that you kidnapped me and are holding me hostage down here instead of letting me go back home because of your stupid prophecy that you’re so scared of.” You know that last part is a low blow, but you can’t help yourself right now; the anger is rolling off of you in waves, and if you can’t throw literal punches you’ll throw figurative ones. 

Michael’s silent, and you’re almost afraid to look at him the longer his silence draws on. When you finally do work up the courage to glance at him, your eyes connect with his. He’s looking down at you, but not with any sort of anger. Instead, his gaze holds something deeper, something...sadder. 

“You know, I may be a little sadistic at times, but I don’t enjoy the parts of my job that involve me seeing into the innermost parts of a person’s soul.” He finally says. 

“What do you mean?”

“One of my gifts includes being able to see absolutely everything about a person. What they’re thinking, feeling, things they’ve done that they’re not proud of, their fears and secrets. It helps me quite a bit, but it can also be a burden.” His eyes grow distant, recalling the darker parts of this gift. “Having to see the friendly old grandfather with the wrinkled face and jolly smile talk about all of his grandkids and great grandkids, only to have the memories of the time he beat his pregnant, unwed daughter until she miscarried the baby so she wouldn’t bring ‘shame’ to the family sickens me. The woman who, at first glance, died too young, was actually killed by an ex-boyfriend she had framed for the many murders she had committed. Teenage boys with baby faces who killed themselves after shooting up their schools and taking the lives of their own classmates.”

“Michael…” You reach out, tentatively grabbing his hand with yours. “I didn’t know.” 

“I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel sorry for me, (Y/N). I want you to see that it’s not some enjoyable job and that I don’t sit on a throne of bones and cackle while sending everyone that comes through here straight to Hell. People are bad, no matter how much they look the opposite. I know that you see the good in everyone, but I have to see those dark parts that people try to keep hidden. There needs to be retribution for people’s acts, and unfortunately I’m the one who carries that out.” He stands, gently pulling his hand from your grasp. “I’m sorry that you had to stumble across that hall the way that you did. I know that you wanted to save Misty, but you just can’t.”

“I shouldn’t have hit you, or called you a monster. I’m sorry.” You say quietly, eyes looking anywhere but at Michael. 

“I know you are.” He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll see you around, alright?” 

The man in front of you, who for the entirety of your time here has seemed to be some cold, angry ruler who shows no mercy, is suddenly entirely human and vulnerable. You want to reach out for him, call him back and tell him that you didn’t mean any of it, but you don’t know how to make up for what you’ve said. Instead, you just nod. “Alright.” 

“By the way, I found those kids that you were playing hide-and-go-seek with. They’re very pleased that you couldn’t find them, they think they’re the best hiders to have ever played the game.” He says before he leaves, trying to cheer you up a little bit. Honestly, you had forgotten about the kids until now, and it feels like nothing can make you feel better after seeing the inner pain of the man that you thought was just a cruel god. 


	7. Strange Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael offers to teach you magic, and you share an unexpected moment with him.

The once-comforting library has now grown to be a place of misery and solitude. A week, you’ve been spending every waking hour in there for a week, attempting to find some kind of loophole to help you get back home. Not only are you nowhere near through the vast amount of knowledge that the room holds, you also haven’t found any relevant information on getting out of a prophecy when you’re an unwilling participant. 

In other words, you’re fucked.

You’ve taken to remaining in the library, choosing to wander instead of conduct anymore research. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve lost all hope. You wander around in the belief that a particular work will speak to you (the wand chooses the wizard, the book chooses the captive), but really, it’s the only way you’re not losing your mind and succumbing to the overwhelming sadness lurking just under the surface. 

It’s interesting just how palpable the emotions of a living mortal are in the Underworld. Desa’s tried to explain it to you; how your aura’s dimmed considerably, which is why the various demons and creatures are either avoiding you or trying anything to cheer you up. You’ve been told that even Michael himself can feel the tilt in the atmosphere, but you haven’t been able to talk to him about it. 

Ever since he got you out of Misty Day’s personal hell and the events that transpired after, he had politely avoided you. Sure, he would smile when you crossed paths and make polite conversation when you joined him for meals, but other than that your interactions were kept to a minimum. If you were being honest with yourself, this silent treatment was slowly driving you crazy. 

Why did you want him to talk to you so badly? You felt no remorse for giving him the same treatment your first few days Below, so why did you feel so bad now that he’s returning the favor? He was infuriating on so many levels, could be scary when he wanted to be, didn’t really understand modern life, and was pretty delusional. Michael could also be sweet, playful, giving, and even occasionally kind. He was an enigma, and one you really wanted to figure him out. 

Instead of wandering, today you’ve decided to settle on one of the upper levels of the library. Your legs dangle off the edge of the staircase, arms looped through the railing as you daydream. Your thoughts often go to your life back home, more specifically the everyday aspects that you once found boring. You wondered what your friends were doing, how their classes were going. You didn’t know how much time had actually passed up Above, since the concept of time on the two different planes was still so foreign to you. You want to know how your family is, what’s been happening at your job, you’re even desperate to learn news about the trashy reality TV stars you try so hard to avoid. 

“Even if I couldn’t hear thoughts, you think any louder and soon you’ll be broadcasting to everyone down here.” Your eyes blink back into focus, and you glance down past the railings to see Michael on the ground level below you. 

“I thought you promised me that you wouldn’t read my mind.” You frown slightly. 

“I did, it’s not my fault that you’re loud.” He teases, lifting a finger to beckon you down. “Come down here, I want to talk to you.” Hoisting yourself up to your feet, you jog down the steps to meet Michael. 

“Michael, I’m sorry-”

“I know you are.” He interrupts. “I’m not mad anymore, okay? Seriously, what you did doesn’t come close to all of the terrible things I’ve done to you lately.”

“I think we’re matching each other shot-for-shot.” Michael chuckles, nodding in agreement. 

“I’ve heard that you’ve reached a wall with your research?” 

“Yeah, the wall that’s been in my way from the minute I started trying to research.” You scoff, running a hand through your hair. 

“I think I might have something to cheer you up.” You raise your eyebrows, gesturing for him to go on. “You’ve been interested in learning a little bit about magic, correct?” 

“Yeah, but Madison’s been gone this week.” The situation at the River Styx ended up becoming a much larger issue that required Madison to travel beyond the Underworld. 

“I know I’m no Goddess of Witchcraft, but I do have my fair share of magical abilities that I’d be willing to teach you.” Your eyes light up at this suggestion, and you grin. 

“Really? You’d do that?” 

“Of course.”

“When can we start.” 

“Right now, if you’re up for it.” You bite your lip before nodding. 

“I’d totally be up for that.” Michael can’t help but to smile at your enthusiasm towards this situation. 

“How about a change of scenery? You must be getting tired of locking yourself up in here.” Michael takes your hand in his, and in a flash you’re transported out of the library. The rooms that you’re in now are ones you’ve never seen before. It’s a very modern-looking office, with a large red oak desk in the center. Books line the shelves that lean against the walls, some of them looking like they’ll disintegrate with a mere breath. Glancing through the doorway, you see a large four-poster bed, made of the same black material that makes up the throne and covered in red silk sheets. You blush when you realize that’s Michael’s bedroom. “You’re very good at deductions, (Y/N). I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it’s just that my office contains my personal collection of spellbooks.” With an elegant flick of his wrist, the door leading to his bedroom closes. 

“How long have you been alive for?” You ask, eyes running over the books of from various eras. 

“Didn’t you know it’s rude to ask a person their age?” He jokes with a smirk. “You lose track of time after a while, and when you’ve been around for as long as I have, traditional ways of marking age become boring. I’ll let you make your own deductions based on that.” 

“Okay, smartass.” You roll your eyes, taking a seat in the chair that Michael pulls out for you. Walking gracefully towards a bookshelf, he quickly peruses his collection before selecting one. He leans against the desk and faces you, book laying next to him on the surface. 

“Now, you’re aware that everybody has some type of magic in them, right?” He waits for your confirmation before continuing. “I’ve been able to sense the magic you possess since the moment we met, it’s extremely powerful. Most people have one of two types of magic: light or night. Light magic is magic that is more nature-based. The four elements greatly influence light magic, and gifts like pyrokinesis and transmutation are extremely common. Night magic used to be known as dark magic, but the name was changed due to obvious reasons.”

“This is the magic you have?”

“Yes. It’s very old, ancient magic. It was called ‘dark’ for a reason; this magic is synonymous with death. Think necromancy, divination, things such as that.” 

“So which type do I have?”

“Both, actually.”

“What?” 

“Remember how I said most have one of two types? Only the Supreme witch, a witch able to master the Seven Wonders, controls both types. Even then, it’s a very small amount of dark magic that witch possesses, and Madison must give them those specific powers. You, (Y/N), have both light and night entwined together within you, and it’s been like that since you were born. Even I can’t harness both types.”

“And you’re sure about this?”

“Well that’s what we’re about to find out, isn’t it?” He teases, knowing that you’ll rise to the challenge he’s presenting. All-too-predictably, your eyes steel and you nod. 

“Hit me with it.” Michael raises his right hand up in the air, and you watch as a book un-lodges itself from the shelf and flies right into his waiting hand. He grins at your wide eyes, standing and walking across the room to place the book back in its assigned spot. 

“Your turn. We’ll attempt telekinesis first, the most basic of the Seven Wonders.”

“Hold up, what are the Seven Wonders again?”

“The most powerful gifts a person can have. Only the strongest witch in a generation can master all seven, and,” He smirks. “Those of us who aren’t entirely mortal. The easiest wonders are telekinesis, pyrokinesis, concilium, or mind control, and transmutation. The final three are also the most rare, because they require night magic to complete them: descensum, which you’ve seen the consequences of; divination, in which a person calls on supernatural forces to help answer a question; and vitalum vitalis, where you’d bring a living thing back to life.”

“Sounds easy.” You remark dryly, leaning back against your chair. You pull yourself up and out of the chair with a heavy sigh, turning to face Michael. “So how do I do telekinesis?”

“The number one thing is focus. You’ve never knowingly used magic before, but I’m assuming it’s happened without your knowledge. Have you ever felt a tingling-like energy thrumming just under your skin?” 

“Yes, actually.” You’re only minorly creeped out at how accurate that description is.

“Focus on that feeling. Think about what you want to move, in this case the book, and focus on using the feeling to capture the book and move it to you.” Taking a deep breath, you copy Michael’s earlier actions and raise your arm towards the bookshelf. Concentrating, you can feel your skin crawl as energy forms under the surface. Unfortunately, that’s the most that happens. After two minutes of glaring at the book, you groan and throw your hands up in the air. 

“This is fucking useless. It’s not even working and I pry just look like a crazy person.” Michael smiles sympathetically, moving to stand by your side. 

“You don’t look crazy. Your issue is that you’re impatient.”

“Thanks.” You snort.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just expecting it to be instantaneous like it is when I use telekinesis. You’ll get there, but seeing as how you’ve never knowingly tapped into your powers before, it’s going to take some practice. May I?” He gestures to your hand, grabbing it when you nod. Lifting your hand up to it’s prior position, he gently uses his thumb to relax your joints. “Magic’s not about being angry. It’s a gift that you possess, and it won’t work if you don’t treat it right and learn how to properly harness it. Close your eyes.”

“Why?” You laugh nervously. 

“Just do it, please. I promise I know what I’m doing.” Reluctantly, you let your eyes fall closed, watching as white spots dance across the black covering your vision. “Become aware of your other senses. Take some deep breaths and feel the energies in the room with each inhale. Let that sensation you feel under your skin envelop you. Imagine it gaining a physical form and becoming an extension of your own arm. Think about the book you want to grab, how heavy it looks, the color, the binding. Feel that power reaching out and growing from the palm of your hand. Can you feel it?” He whispers into your ear.

“Yes.” You mutter, feeling yourself making contact with something solid across the room. 

“Open your eyes, look at the book, and close your hand to pull it towards you.” Following his commands, you watch in glee as the book comes away from the other works lining either side and floats in mid air. In your excitement, you lose your concentration and the book falls to the floor, but you’re extremely pleased that it worked. 

“I did it!” You shout, turning around to face Michael. He’s smiling down at you, mirroring your glee. 

“You did!” Your smiles dim slightly as you both stare at each other, glances wavering from eyes to lips. When you glance up, you realize how close your faces actually are, and that your hand is still gripping his. You release his hand and take a step back with an awkward laugh, face bright red. 

“Thanks, that was...so cool.” 

“Your slang amuses me, but yes, that was incredibly ‘cool.’” He teases you, a hand rubbing at his neck as he tries to hide his own embarrassment at the situation. 

“Um, I should probably get going.” You jab a thumb in the general direction of the door.

“Me too. I’m sure Thanatos is searching for me, and I have some more business to take care of.” 

“See you around, then?”

“I look forward to it.” You didn’t think it was possible to blush even more than you already were, but the heat of your face proves that wrong. Your head bobs, and you manage to open the door without having to turn around. 

“Bye Michael.” 

“Bye (Y/N).” He does the same two-fingered salute you had given him last week, making you giggle at the cheekiness. You wait until you round the corner before you let out a loud groan and rub your hand down your face. That wasn’t actually a moment; it couldn’t have been, not with the man who was still technically your kidnapper. It was just you not knowing how to show your gratitude, and  _ maybe _ you’re developing Stockholm Syndrome? Yeah, that’s it, a logical explanation for why you came so close to kissing the Lord of the Underworld. Like most conundrums in your life, you choose to shove this off to the corners of your mind for you to deal with later. Instead, you excitedly open your bedroom door with your newfound telekinesis, determined to move as many things with your mind as you can. 


	8. Play With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madison's terrible at keeping surprises a secret (or, you finally kiss Michael).

The hall’s quiet, save for the consistent sound of heels clicking on the marble floor. You’re pacing, a nervous habit, chewing at your thumbnail as you think about the previous day’s events. The previous strategy of ignoring what happened until you forgot about it worked for a total of five hours. Your subconscious replayed the scene in your dreams over and over again all night long, leaving you more than relieved when it was a ‘normal’ time to be awake and you could stop tossing and turning. You hated feeling like this--you’re normally not the type of person to dwell on silly little moments that could have been. 

“I thought I heard someone wearing a path into the floor.” You whip around, eyes lighting up at the sight of the tall blonde dressed in black. 

“Madison!” You squeal, throwing your arms around her. “I didn’t know you were back!” 

Madison’s hesitant at this show of affection, awkwardly patting your back while you hold onto her. “I got back yesterday.” 

“How did things go?” 

“Fine, just your normal lost souls trying to plan a mutiny. Easy enough to quell, but still annoying that it had to be dealt with.” She gently pulls your arms off of her, causing you to smile sheepishly. “But enough about that; did I hear correctly from Zoe that you learned some magic?”

You grin, nodding at the goddess. She produces a cigarette from thin air with the snap of her dainty fingers, and holds it out in your direction. 

“Light this for me?” 

You freeze for a moment. You had only gotten as far as telekinesis yesterday, managing to lift the desk in your room.  _ Still, _ you think,  _ it’s got to be close to the same technique as what Michael taught you yesterday, right?  _ Channeling into the tingling feeling of power running under your skin, you imagine the cherry lighting red, thin plumes of smoke curling upwards. It only takes a second for the image in your head to materialize in front of you, and you giggle at Madison’s pleased face. 

“Well color me impressed.” She takes a deep drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in before puffing it out through her nose. You want to lecture her on the dangers of smoking before you remember that you’re standing in front of an immortal woman. “How long did it take you to light something on fire yesterday?” 

“I only worked on telekinesis yesterday, that was my first time trying pyrokinesis.” Madison’s eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“Seriously? That’s...that’s really good, (Y/N). Most of the witches I’ve trained have to go week-by-week with trying each of the Seven Wonders. Either Michael’s one hell of a teacher or your powers are extremely advanced.” Your cheeks color at the mention of Michael’s name, causing Madison to smirk. 

“I-I mean, Michael is a pretty good teacher.” You stutter, grimacing slightly as Madison’s smirk widens. 

“Did something happen between you two yesterday?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. 

“Yes and no.” You stop, coughing from the smoke slowly starting to cloud the room. 

“Come on, let’s take a walk. There’s something I want to show you.” She wraps your arm around hers and starts to lead you to the destination she has in mind. 

“It was just a quick lesson, I think he was just trying to cheer me up since I haven’t been able to find anything.” You start to explain. “After I learned telekinesis, I was just so excited and...Michael and I almost kissed.” You’re sure that Madison’s heard gossip much more scandalous than this, but she still gasps in joy at this. 

“Shut up! Why didn’t you?” 

“I got nervous! Seriously, almost kissing the man who kidnapped me? It’d be a textbook case of Stockholm Syndrome.”

“But you wanted to?” 

“Yes, I wanted to! I think that’s what makes me the most mad.” 

“What?” 

“Am I just falling into some trap? Is Michael trying to woo me into staying here with him?” You scoff, shaking your head. “Let’s be honest though, I’m not even going to find a way to get back home.”

Madison pulls you to a stop, looking you in the eyes. “Be honest with me. Do you like it here?”

You look back at her, biting your lip as you think. The shock of being in Hell had lasted for a few days, but you had managed to establish a sort-of routine after the unfortunate first dinner you had with Michael. Now, you had people here who you considered to be friends, and you actually found yourself enjoying portions of your days. 

“Yes, I do. But Madison, I have a life back Above. I have my family, friends, school. What about the career that I’m planning on? It’s looking like I have no choice but to stay here; I don’t want to cause the end of the world by being selfish. How would I possibly justify that to my family? I’d probably be put into a mental hospital, and then the world would end anyways.” Madison places her hands on your shoulders, stopping your babbling. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re fine. We will work something out, I promise.” For someone who doesn’t like affection, she’s very good at soothing you. 

“I don’t want to be the reason that the world ends.” You whimper, fighting to keep the tears at bay. This has been the major topic on your mind for the past few weeks. Your actions, whatever you choose, will irreparably harm people. It’s a lot of pressure for one mortal woman to handle. 

“You won’t be. After we’re done here, I’m going to go and find the original prophecy. Maybe, in all of the centuries since it had been heard for the first time, there was some mistranslation?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You’re the first ‘normal’ friend I’ve had in a very long time, and I care for you.” 

“Thanks, Mads.” You resist the urge to hug her again, and she smiles. 

“‘Mads.’ I like it. I’ve never really had a nickname before.”

“You do now. So what were you gonna show me?” 

“Oh, it’s right outside!” 

“Outside? Like...outside of the castle?” After almost getting eaten, you’re pretty content with staying here. 

“Yes, but as long as we’re within the gates we’re fine. Plus, I’m here, and no one’s going to mess with me.” Madison opens a door and pulls you outside with her. “You can’t tell Michael that I brought you here. This is a surprise he’s been planning for you, but I just want you to know that he does care for you.”

It’s still a never-ending dark outside, but lanterns light the area that you’re in. A garden spreads ahead of you, one that was just recently planted by the looks of the buds on all of the plants. 

“Michael did all of this?” You ask, unable to hide the smile on your face. 

“Mmhm. He’s not known for having a green thumb, but he knows how much you miss home. He figured that, since there’s nothing else living here, some plants that you can help grow might cheer you up.”

“I can’t believe he would do th-”

“(Y/N), look!” Madison pulls your attention away from your feelings and points to the flowers closest to you. You can only watch in awe as they start to bloom, vibrant purples, blues, and greens coloring the pale dirt. 

“Whoa, Madison, you made them bloom so fast!” 

“I didn’t do that.” She shakes her head, and you look at her in confusion. 

“Then who did?” You expect Michael to pop out, smiling that ‘i-know-something-you-don’t’ smile and proclaim how he’s great at everything, but that doesn’t happen. 

“You did.” You can’t help but to laugh. 

“Seriously? I can only light things on fire and move things, there’s no way I made those bloom.” Madison huffs, rolling her eyes. 

“ _ Seriously _ .” She mocks. “Just walk a little further, I want to test something.” You sigh, but indulge her anyways. Your hope is to prove her wrong, so you’re more than surprised when each flower that you walk past starts to bloom. They’re a variety of species’, colors, and types of petals, but the one thing they have in common is sprouting up towards you like you’re the sun. 

“Holy shit.” You turn around, grinning at Madison. 

“Again, not the words that I would use, but you have the right sentiment.” Your heart races when you see Michael standing in the doorway of the castle, watching you and Madison. 

“Michael.” The man in question strides towards you, undoing all of the work you had just done on the flowers. He rolls his eyes when he sees what you’re looking at, the dead flowers crumbling and curling in on themselves. 

“I see Madison ruined my surprise.” He jokes. 

“At this rate, you were never gonna show her.” She fires back. When she notices you and Michael staring at her, she sighs. “Right, you two have things to discuss. I’ll just be going then.” With a wink she departs, leaving you and Michael standing alone in the garden. 

The parallels between you two are striking. While there’s a blooming garden surrounding you and light being attracted towards you, the flowers that are mere inches away are dying under Michael’s gaze. A cloak of darkness covers him, in addition to the actual cloak he’s wearing. 

“Did you know that I could do that?” You ask. 

“I had my suspicions.” He shrugs. “Remember the part of the prophecy I told you about?”

“You mean the part about me having a direct effect on the end of the world?” You scoff. 

“No, not that part. I meant the part about ‘she who can coax flowers to sprout with a single glance.’ Remember?” You nod, urging Michael to continue. “As far as I’m concerned, you passed. You’re the girl in the prophecy.” 

Michael’s look of triumph turns to one of alarm when your eyes start filling with tears. “So that’s it? I’m stuck here? Madison told me you planted these to cheer me up, was that just a lie?”

“No, not at all!” He pulls you towards him, ignoring your attempts to get away. 

“Let me go, Michael!” 

“ _ Listen _ .” He says sharply, and you still in his arms. “I didn't mean to scare you with that. You’re not stuck here, just because you are a part of the prophecy doesn’t mean we’re not going to stop searching. I believe Madison talked about going to find the original prophecy?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay then, we’ll wait until after she finds it, and we’ll go from there.” 

You nod, but you’re still not convinced. “Why did you lie about what this garden was really for? You could have just told me that you wanted to test me.” 

“I didn’t lie. Was it convenient? Absolutely. But I made this for you,” He gestures towards the rest of the garden. “To cheer you up. I know you miss being home, and I was hoping that this would help bring a bit of your home to you.”

“You’re so...so...ugh!” You make a noise that sounds vaguely like a scream and a sigh, waving your hands in the air for emphasis. Michael’s lips twitch as he tries to hide his amusement.

“Care to elaborate?” He asks.

“You are the most confusing, infuriating person I’ve ever met. You’ve kidnapped me, managed to creepily tell me a prophecy while laughing like a crazy person, banished a demon to--I don’t know, another part of Hell?”

“Tartarus.” Michael supplies when you take a breath. 

“Yeah, that. You can be mean, and cruel, and arrogant, and sometimes you can be downright nasty-”

“Pardon, but is there a point to this?”

“Don’t interrupt me and there will be!” You have to close your eyes and take a deep breath before starting again. “You’re all of these terrible, horrible things, but then you have a completely different side. You’ve let me set up shop in the library of my dreams, saved me from someone’s personal hell, and taught me how to use magic. You can be kind, and witty, and so thoughtful. You say that I’m trapped here, that I’m a part of your prophecy and that I’m meant to rule by your side, but then you comfort me and reassure me that you’ll help figure out a way to get me back home. It--it confuses me, honestly.”

“‘Conscience doth make cowards of us all.’” Michael mutters, pursing his lips as he thinks. 

“Did you just quote Shakespeare?”

“So they do still teach the important subjects.”

“Yes, but we can talk all about the public school system later, okay?  _ Why _ did you quote Shakespeare?”

“I’m afraid that the process of overthinking has turned me into a coward.” When you don’t flinch at Michael’s hesitant touch on your face, he smiles. “I must confess to you that, after our near-encounter yesterday, I’ve been nervous to see you again.”

“Really?  _ You _ , nervous to see  _ me _ ?” 

“Oh, don’t act so shocked. You think  _ I’m _ confusing? You’re stubborn, and nosy, and can pack quite the punch when you need to. But you’re also incredibly smart and well-versed, you have a heart of gold, and I’m pretty sure you’re the personification of light. I...I care for you, deeply. Prophecy or no prophecy, you’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met.”

“Michael.” You blush, rolling your eyes. 

“I’m not exaggerating. (Y/N), I’ve been around for a long, long time. I’ve seen civilizations rise and fall, wars fought, and every possible major historical event you could think of. I have met women considered to be the most beautiful of their times, and for good reason. But no one, goddess or mortal, can hold a candle to how beautiful you are to me.” 

You’ve been in relationships (well, kind of, if you count Snapchatting for three weeks before ghosting each other) before, and men have told you how ‘cute’ you are. Your friends remind you that you’re smart, and sometimes you’ve been called ‘too nice.’ Never before has somebody talked to you like Michael just did. You’ve never been complimented like this, let alone by an immortal god.

“Michael?” You call out. Your faces are incredibly close, almost in exactly the same positions as they were yesterday. 

“Yes?” He responds, gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes. 

“Kiss me?” Michael just barely nods before eagerly pressing his lips to yours. 

In books and movies, kisses are always described as feeling like fireworks, the kind of kisses that make the whole world fade away and romantic music playing from an unknown location as a fountain that you weren’t aware was behind you starts spouting joyfully. The girl’s foot almost always pops up, a misconception you thought was real for 16 years (thanks, Anne Hathaway). The kisses you had experienced before were usually sloppy, full of too much tongue and leaving you feeling awkward and disappointed. This kiss with Michael is different than both of those. 

His lips are soft, yet the pressure is pleasurably firm. You’re not sure if it’s a natural gift of his or if it’s one cultivated from thousands of years of experience, but he’s damn good at this. One of your hands is tangled in his hair while the other rests on his shoulder, and he caresses your cheeks with his hands. You sigh happily, and Michael uses this opportunity to gently slip his tongue in your mouth. You used to think using tongue was nasty, but Michael is artfully skilled at this as well. You only pull away when you have to breathe, chest heaving and head spinning. 

Michael’s face is flushed, and you’re sure yours is too. When he tries to kiss you again, you stop him with a hand on his chest, confusing him. 

“Is it something I did? I haven’t kissed anyone in a while, but-”

“No! No it wasn’t anything you did, you were  _ great _ ! Seriously, that was amazing. I just need to think, it’s been a...crazy day, y’know?” Michael smiles slightly, nodding. 

“I understand.” He takes your hand in his. “I should have told you this sooner, but there’s going to be a ball here tomorrow. It’s one that I’m forced to host every year, and those on Olympus make their way down here to my domain. If you’re up for it, I would like for you to accompany me.” 

“Are you trying to ask me to be your date, Michael?” You tease, smirking at him. 

“Yes, that would be correct.” 

“I would love that.” He may call you ‘the personification of light,’ but the smile he gives you could rival the lamps burning above you. 

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, then. I’m afraid I must be going now. Would you like me to escort you back inside?”

“No, if it’s okay with you I think I’d like to stay out here for a little while longer.” 

“That’s perfectly alright, it is your garden after all.” Ever the gentleman, Michael kisses your hand before turning to leave. It’s only the door leading to the castle closes that you squeal, jumping up and down in excitement. When you come to a stop, you realize your next task is incredibly daunting: finding a fancy dress to wear.


	9. Ballroom Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night of the ball, and if you thought Michael was intimidating, the idea of being in a room with ALL of the gods and goddesses is absolutely terrifying.

“I’m not wearing that.” 

“You have to, it’s tradition!”

“Screw tradition, I’m not wearing it!”

You’re in a face-off with Madison, glaring fiercely at the woman while she clutches a corset in her hands. After Desa wasn’t able to convince you to wear it, she had gone to get Madison, which only agitated you more. You’re already nervous about seeing Michael tonight, as well as being in a room with a bunch of legendary gods and goddesses who are so much more worldly than you are. Your nerves are shot, and this is really not helping things right now. 

Madison sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Why won’t you wear it?”

“Because it’s a sexist piece of clothing rooted in patriarchal values. They’re used specifically to make a woman ‘aesthetically pleasing,’ which is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” You explain your viewpoint. 

“I...really hate that you’re right.” Madison concedes after a moment, causing you to smirk with pride. “Fine, don’t wear it. You’ll look great no matter what.” 

Madison is already dressed, wearing a black strapless dress with sleeves that flow down to her elbows and a slit on the side of the fabric that shows off her long legs. Gold leaves accent the dress in just the right way, and the outfit is completed with a dainty diadem on her head. You can only imagine that every other woman who will be attending tonight will look just as ethereal as the woman in front of you. 

“I’m not gonna be able to even stand next to you and all the other goddesses.” You chuckle, attempting to make light of your very real fear. 

“Why not?”

“Look at you, and then look at me. There’s your answer.” Madison frowns, tossing the corset onto your bed and grabbing your shoulders to drag you towards the mirror. 

“Why do you put yourself down so much? You do this whenever I dress you up.” 

“I don’t know, it’s hard to not compare myself when I’m surrounded by all these perfect women. Plus, with social media you’ve got Instagram models and Facetune being shown to you everyday. It’s pretty much ingrained in our minds to compare ourselves and see how we can be ‘better.’” You cough, meeting Madison’s eyes through the mirror. “It’s just normal, I guess.” 

“Beauty is very much a human concept. Even at the height of Greek civilization, mortals were fighting over what beauty truly was. Do you know what some of the greatest philosophers decided?” You shake your head, and she smiles. “They couldn’t come to a conclusion. Beauty’s subjective, and it’s often true that the most beautiful people carry their beauty within them.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Hush. You don’t know how beautiful you are, both on the outside and the inside. If the Greeks fought a war over Helen of Troy’s beauty, they’d fight ten wars over yours. You have the literal God of the Underworld head over heels for you, and not to mention all of the beings down here who are drawn to your inner beauty. I promise, you belong here. Besides, when you’ve been alive for as long as all of us have, judging people based on the symmetry of their face or how conventionally attractive their features are becomes very blasé and trivial.”

You attempt to desperately blink your tears away, not wanting to ruin the makeup Desa had so carefully helped you to apply earlier. First Michael’s declaration yesterday, and now Madison’s lecture/reminder today, and now you want to collapse into a puddle of tears and hug every person in sight. Madison senses this, and she rolls her eyes before sighing. 

“Get over here and hug me.” She loses her balance slightly at the intensity of your hug, but quickly returns it. 

“I knew you’d give into my hugs soon enough.” You mutter into her ear, feeling her shoulders shake with laughter. 

“Don’t you dare tell anybody how much of a sap you’ve made me become.” She jokingly warns you. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, I swear.” 

“Alright, we’ve wasted enough time having a heart-to-heart chat, let’s get you dressed.” Madison snaps her fingers, and Desa appears with a dress in her hands. 

Minutes later, you’re inspecting yourself in the mirror again, but this time with glee instead of criticism. The two women (your best friends here, if you’re being honest) picked out a dress made out of some flowy fabric-- _ Organza? Chiffon? You wish you would have paid more attention to your grandmother’s attempts to teach you sewing _ \--that falls down your body like water. The neckline is a deep V, almost reaching down to your waist. You’ve never been a fan of the color pink, but the pale pink color compliments you perfectly. Silver flowers wrap around your figure, which you’re sure is a deliberate choice on Madison’s part. Desa’s wrapped the same flowers throughout your hair. You look completely different while also looking the same as always, kind of like-

“A goddess.” Three sets of eyes go towards the door, where Michael now stands and watches you. You note with glee that fashion is, indeed, not lost on Greek gods. He’s wearing a velvet, blood-red jacket over a sharp black dress shirt, black slacks tucked into the red-bottom boots he’s fond of, and a red and black scarf tied around his neck. Red eyeshadow makes his cyan eyes pop even more than you thought was possible. 

“Your hair!” You exclaim, choosing to focus on arguably the smallest detail. In your defense, his hair looks nothing like you’ve seen before; in the span of a day, his hair has grown down to his shoulders. 

“You don’t like it?” He teases. 

“No I do, I like it a lot, it’s just different. A good different, though.” You stutter out, blushing at how dumb you probably look right now. 

“And you, my dear, look like a goddess.” Michael, ever the gentleman, kisses the back of your hand after he approaches you. 

“See you out there.” Madison smirks, throwing a cheeky wink your way before sauntering out the door. 

“Anything else, (Y/N)?” Desa asks. 

“No, thank you Desa.” You smile at the handmaiden, who nods before disappearing. Suddenly it’s just you and Michael, which sends butterflies fluttering through your abdomen. Michael grins at you deviously before leaning in to kiss you. 

“You should have started with that.” You giggle breathlessly as Michael places his large, ringed hands on your waist. 

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Less compliments, more kissing.” He makes his point by kissing you again. “I meant what I said, though. You really do look like a goddess.” 

“And I meant what I said, too. I really like the hair. You should consider keeping it like this.” You run a hand through his hair, relishing in the silky feeling. 

“Hmm, I’ll consider it. For now, we really should be going. It’s not too good for the host and his lovely date to be late.”

“Wait!” You drag Michael to a stop, and he looks at you in confusion. “I forgot shoes.” You say sheepishly, letting go of his hand to grab the pair of (low) heels still sitting at the end of your bed. You shove them on as quickly as possible, holding Michael’s hands for balance so that you don’t fall. 

“Are you ready now?” He asks, smiling fondly at you. With your nod, he lets you wrap your hand around his forearm again, leading you to the throne room. 

He can sense how nervous you are as you stand in front of the closed doors, waiting for the butlers to open them and formally introduce Michael. Your grip on his arm keeps growing tighter, and you’re nervously shifting your weight back and forth between each foot. 

“There’s no reason to be nervous, (Y/N). I’ve got you.” He reassures you. 

“Just...don’t let go of me, okay?” 

“Never.” You straighten up when you hear the faint voice of a man announcing “the arrival of his Majesty, King Hades, God of the Dead, Lord of the Underworld, accompanied by Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” The doors swing open, and you stifle a gasp. 

The throne room is beautifully decorated, looking every bit as rich and extravagant as you imagined a party thrown by Greek gods and goddesses would be. All eyes are on you and Michael as you descend down the grand staircase. You’re smiling, but on the inside you’re desperately repeating to yourself ‘ _ don’t fall, don’t fall. _ ’ 

“I’ve got you.” He repeats in your ear, hiding a smirk after hearing your terrified thoughts. At the bottom of the staircase, Michael commands all of the attention. 

“Dear friends, thank you for joining us here in the Underworld tonight. Please, eat, drink, dance, and be merry.” You assume that this little speech is customary by the bored tone of his voice and the way everyone resumes their conversations the second Michael’s done talking. 

“You did good.” You encourage, relaxing now that nobody’s looking at you. 

“Funny.” He says dryly, smirking at you. 

“I’m serious!” You bump shoulders with him playfully, enjoying the laugh you get from him. His smile quickly morphs into a frown, and you look around while trying to figure out what’s got him down. 

“Here comes trouble.” He mutters before forcing a neutral look on his face. A small brunette with doe-eyes approaches, her gold dress trailing behind her. She smiles warmly, but you can see the hesitation in her eyes. 

“Michael.” She greets warmly, hugging Michael quickly before pulling away. 

“Sister.” He kisses both of her cheeks while you watch in bewilderment.  _ Sister _ ? “(Y/N), this is my sister, Hera.” 

“I prefer to go by Violet nowadays.” She smiles at you, hugging you too. “It’s so nice to finally meet you (Y/N). After hearing my brother go on and on about you for months, I was beginning to think he’d never actually make a move.” You giggle as Michael grits his teeth. 

“ _ Violet _ .” He warns, but there’s no malice behind the ‘threat.’ 

“Ah, I was wondering where my darling wife had ran off too.” Violet stiffens, the atmosphere growing cold when a man with blonde curls ( _ almost like Michael’s _ , you note) and dark eyes appears and places his hand on Violet’s shoulder. Your eyes widen when you realize that this must be the legendary Zeus.

“Tate.” Michael acknowledges Zeus’ presence with his modern name. Tate smiles coldly, dark eyes fixating on you. 

“Is this the object of Michael’s affection?” Michael’s grip tightens protectively on your waist, pulling you closer to his side. 

“This is (Y/N).” Tate holds out his arm, and you take his hand and let him kiss the back of it. It doesn’t feel nearly as nice as when Michael does it, and you take your hand back quickly from him. 

“(Y/N). I’m Tate, Michael’s brother, brother-in-law, unwilling vessel used in his conception, you know.” You don’t know, but you nod anyways. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” It’s a tense stare down between the two men, you and Violet looking at each other in worry. 

“You’ll have to excuse us, Tate. As the host, I do have to greet the other guests.” Michael quips. 

“Of course. Come, Violet.” Tate grabs Violet harshly, pulling her away as she waves ‘goodbye’ at you. When they’re far enough away, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“That was…” 

“Horrible? Vomit-inducing?” Michael fills in. 

“Quite the experience.” You finish, not wanting to be as cruel as Michael. “I see why you got so mad at our first supper, when I called him your brother? You handle yourself extremely well around him, though.” You smile at him, watching as the rage leaves his eyes. 

“You’re the only person who can manage to calm me down so easily, you know that?” You shrug bashfully. 

“One of my special talents, I guess.” Michael cocks his head to the side, listening to the song the band plays. 

“Care for a dance?” 

“Oh, I don’t know how to dance.” You explain. Michael smirks at you, shaking his head. 

“Don’t worry, just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” Your hand intertwines with his, the other resting on his shoulder while he keeps his on your waist. You stumble a bit, apologizing profusely when you step on his toes, but soon he’s swinging you around the room, grinning as you laugh. You watch the other couples whirl around you, smiling nostalgically.

“What?” Michael questions.

“This just reminds me of a movie I used to watch when I was little.  _ Labyrinth _ ?” You’re not surprised when he shakes his head to let you know he doesn’t understand. “Ah, well, there was a scene where the main characters are at a masquerade ball, and they’re dancing just like this. Just reminded me of home, I guess.” 

Michael looks down at you, obviously thinking about something. “I’m not sure of the extent of, or if there even will be, any consequences, but maybe we could go up Above for a visit soon?” 

“You’d do that?” You ask joyfully. 

“Of course I would, I-” A shriek cuts Michael off as he stops you both. The band’s playing comes to a halt, and the lights flicker as more shrieks fill the room. The doors have been blown wide open, both hanging haphazardly off of the hinges. Guests move towards the back of the throne room, trying desperately to get away from whatever threat has invaded Hell. Michael stands in front of you, so you crane your neck to get a view. 

A tall figure stands at the bottom of the stairs, his head brushing against the cavernous ceilings that are at least 10 feet above you. His entire body is coal-black and moves as though it’s made of smoke, raised etchings decorating what must be considered his skin. His eyes are burning embers, and the horns that top his head shine when hit with light. Michael steps forward, shocking you. Your shock only increases when he bows his head. 

“Father.” You gasp at his greeting, screams surrounding you. His father? Who is his father? You’ve never really entertained the idea of Michael’s parents. Is this Cronus, the father of the 12 main Olympians that you were taught about during (frequently-wrong) elementary school lessons? Or is this Satan himself? Zoe and Madison appear next to you, each grabbing an arm. 

“Take (Y/N) to my chambers, and don’t let her out of your sight until I’m there.” They nod in agreement while you try to fight them off. 

“Michael!” You protest. 

“Do as I say.” He commands, looking at you with what you realize is fear. You nod, and Madison transmutates the three of you out of the throne room. You yell out in frustration after you’ve safely landed in Michael’s office, Zoe and Madison securing the premises. 

“Who the fuck was that?” You question, trying to calm down before you really get angry.

“It’s...difficult to explain, but I’ll try. Basically, the so-called ‘religions’ all got some things right, and some things wrong. Even though Michael is Hades, he’s also Satan’s son. I know that it’s confusing, trust me, I’ve tried to figure this out for thousands of years but I still don’t have it all worked out.” Zoe says.

“So that was Satan?”

“Yep.”

“Is Michael going to be okay?” 

“There’s no way to know for sure right now. Satan doesn’t usually show up to these sorts of events; he hasn’t even been seen for the last five centuries. The only thing to do now is wait.”

You’ve always been impatient, whether it be with test scores, appointments, or just being told to wait. You attempt to pass the time by pacing back and forth, but after twenty minutes you realize you can’t keep this up. Switching to perusing Michael’s bookshelves, another two hours pass with no sign of Michael. Zoe and Madison have remained seated on one of the couches, watching you the entire time. At some point in the early hours of the morning, you fall asleep on Michael’s bed, fully clothed and with tears of worry making tracks down your face.

The feeling of somebody touching your feet has you jolting up in a panic, ready for a fight. If there’s one thing you hate more than anything, it’s people touching your feet. 

“Hey, it’s just me! Please don’t kick me!” Your eyes adjust to the dimmed lighting, finally seeing Michael crouched down in front of you. 

“What the fuck were you doing?” Your half-asleep brain doesn’t even realize what’s going on right now, you’re just mad that someone woke you up. 

“Your shoes were still on, I was just trying to take them off for you.” You look around the room, noticing Madison and Zoe are both gone. It takes another moment for you to realize why you fell asleep in Michael’s bedroom before you leap off the bed and into his arms. 

“Michael, I was so worried! Are you okay? What happened?” You bombard him with questions. He lifts you up like you weigh nothing, laying down on the bed with you. 

“I’m fine, everything’s fine. My father just picked the wrong time to stop by for a visit.” 

“‘A visit?’ Madison told me he hadn’t even been seen in five hundred years.” You look at him with a frown. His hair is disheveled, and his outfit is ripped to shreds. There’s blood all over him, but the wounds have already healed. “Jesus, Michael. What did he do to you?” Your hand touches his forehead, stroking the three streaks of blood where he had obviously been scratched. 

“We just had a disagreement. He’s trying to convince me to turn my back on Olympus, overthrow the system and basically unleash the apocalypse so that he can rule on Earth. It’s a fight we’ve had off and on for years.” Your mind quickly connects the dots, and you sigh. 

“That’s why you needed me out of there.” 

“He gave me two choices: send you back Above and ‘hope’ the prophecy works and the end of the world happens, or kill you and set it off that way.” Your blood runs cold at Satan’s ‘options’ that he’s given to his son. 

“So, is-”

“I managed to banish him to Tartarus. It’s not much, and it will only hold him for a couple of weeks, but by then Madison should have found the prophecy and we can have a more concrete plan.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“You can hold me?” It’s a rare moment of vulnerability, but thankfully it’s a request that you can easily handle. 

“Do you want to get out of those clothes, get cleaned up or something?” He shakes his head. 

“I’m just tired. We can worry about that in the morning.” The battle with his father has obviously shaken him, so you wrap your arms around him and decide to worry about the mess that’s left behind in the morning. 


	10. A Soft Place to Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, Hell gets even worse.

_ The Earth is a smoldering wasteland.  _

_ The sky above you is painted a sickening red, and the air is both hot and cold at the same time. Smoke rises from the ground while sirens wail in the distance, and glowing eyes watch you through what you hope is a mirage. Your bare feet make imprints in the gray dirt as you walk through the skeleton of what used to be a house. You’re not quite sure what you’re walking towards, but a pull in your chest leads you to an unknown destination.  _

_ The ceiling’s caved in, and water pools in spots on the floor. Wood paneling hangs by a single nail in some spots, swinging dangerously above your head.  _

_ “Hello?” You call out, coughing at the soot that invades your lungs. Your skin is covered in streaks of ash, and whatever outfit you were wearing hangs off of you in tatters. The tugging in your chest continues to lead you through the old house, and it’s only when you’re standing above a set of decrepit stairs that you realize where you are. _

_ The Murder House.  _

_ It’s especially peculiar that you’re here now, considering your last memories involve being in Hell. You’re not even sure how you got back Above, or how the world came to be this way. You’re careful to descend the stairs, which creak and groan as you walk on the moisture-soaked wood. You crinkle your nose at the acrid scent of brimstone, reminding you of the last time you walked down these stairs.  _

_ The lines between the Underground and Above had blurred considerably; the second your foot lands on the floor of the basement, you’re standing in the throne room of Hell. When you turn around, you can still see the steps that you just came down on. There’s no ceiling, the same blood-red sky providing a backdrop for the large room. The throne, which was once made of obsidian, is now crafted from human bones. Skulls stare at you from the armrests, their jaws forever opened in silent screams. Ravens circle overhead, calling out to each other as they look down upon those below them.  _

_ An unfamiliar figure sits on the throne of bones. His white face is marred with cracks, making the skin look even more like porcelain than it already does. His hair blows from the force of an unseen wind, and his pitch-black eyes seem to be looking through you. The being who you know as Satan stands behind the throne, and it’s only when the pale man’s cackles reach your ears that you realize this is Michael. His hands are red and dripping with blood, and you walk closer to try and see where it’s coming from.  _

_ “Michael?” You ask, but he doesn’t hear you. You’re close enough to touch him, but stop when your foot hits something solid. When you look down, it takes a moment for your eyes to process what you’ve run into, and you can’t help but scream when you do.  _

_ Your corpse lays on its back on the floor, glassy eyes staring up above. Blood dribbles out of boths sides of the corpse’s mouth, and dried blood cakes the skin below the nose. The fatal wound appears to be from ‘your’ chest, a giant hole punching through the skin and ribs. Your own chest has the same wound, ribs cracked and muscles and tendons hanging from your empty chest cavity. Suddenly, you’re entirely aware of the blood dripping down your face, giving you matching injuries to your mottled body below you. When you look up, you see your heart in Michael’s hand, watching in horror as he bites out of it like it’s an apple. _

You jolt up, chest heaving and head spinning. You’re sitting in a bed instead of standing at Michael’s throne, and you pat your chest for reassurement that your heart is still where it’s supposed to be. You jump at the feeling of hands on your shoulders, watching with wide eyes as Michael stares at you. 

“Hey, are you okay? You were thrashing around in your sleep.” You collect yourself, beads of sweat pooling on the exposed part of your chest that your dress doesn’t cover. 

“Yeah, just a nightmare.” He looks confused, and you realize that gods must not dream, and therefore not know how bad nightmares can be, on the rare occasion that they do sleep. “It was really realistic.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly. You hesitate, but in the time it takes you to decide on an answer your vivid imagination has already beamed the nightmare right into Michael’s mind. His face falls at what he sees, the pale demon that he morphed into eating your heart as you could do nothing but watch. 

“Michael, it was just a bad dream.” 

“You know I wouldn’t kill you, right? I can’t even bare the thought of that.” He says sincerely, looking into your eyes. 

“I know that!” You’re almost hurt that he believes you’re legitimately scared of him. “Seriously, I know. I wasn’t even scared of you when you dragged me down here and let me starve for three days.” 

He smiles then, and you know your reassuring words have done the trick. “I stopped believing you were scared of me when you punched me.” 

You smirk at him, wincing at the soreness in your body when you move to stand. You feel like you’re hungover, even though you drank no alcohol last night. 

“Where are you going?” Michael asks. 

“I’m gonna go get changed out of this dress and get into some clothes that I actually want to wear.” You fish your shoes off of the ground, but decide to hold them instead of actually bothering to put them on. 

“(Y/N).” Michael calls out, and your hand stalls on the door handle as you look back at him. His long hair is tangled, and he’s still wearing the same ruined clothes from last night, but he looks just as beautiful as always.  

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you, for listening to me last night. I cannot stress how grateful I am that you put aside your stubbornness for that one moment.” 

“You’re welcome, Michael. Thanks for not dying last night.” You smile at him before opening the door and making your way back to your own room. 

Where do you stand with Michael? You ponder this question on the walk towards your room. You’re obviously not enemies, but after the past couple of days the two of you have to be more than friends. Do you like Michael? Of course you do. But do you like him enough to stand by his side as the Queen of the Underworld? 

Would the threats on your life continue? You’re mortal, and no matter what choice you make you will grow old and die. Will the apocalypse still happen if you die of natural causes? There’s too many questions running through your mind and your head, which never stopped spinning after you woke up suddenly, is throbbing. 

You’re happy to see that there’s nobody in your room for once during your stay here. You grab some random clothes from your dresser, assuming that Madison will help you if you don’t end up wearing clothes that match. The remnants of last night’s makeup don’t put up much of a fight when you take a wash rag to your face, and you look closely in the mirror to check that your face is completely bare. Your reflection stuns you for a moment. 

Even though your hunger strike was weeks ago, your face looks gaunter than it did directly after your first meal with Michael. The circles under your eyes are purple and pronounced, and you just look  _ tired _ . You feel tired too, if you’re being completely honest with yourself. You’ve felt like you were getting sick for the past week or so but have been fighting it off, only for it to be hitting you like a truck today. You didn’t know that people could get sick down here, but it sort of makes sense that viruses and illnesses thrive in the land of the dead. 

“(Y/N)?” You jump, the hairbrush clattering to the countertop. You catch Desa’s eyes through the bathroom mirror, the young woman looking just as startled as you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You’re fine, it’s my own fault for not watching my surroundings.” You say, smiling at her. “Did you need something?”

She recovers quickly, moving to stand behind you. She takes the brush from the counter, and you welcome her expert touch as she starts to untangle your hair. “Master was wondering if you would like to join him for judgements today, see how some official business works?”

“Am I allowed to do that? Right now I’m just ‘Lady (Y/N).’” 

“What King Hades says, goes.” You giggle, turning around and taking Desa’s hands in yours. 

“You have been so wonderful to me during my time here, I just wanted to say thank you.” You’re not sure why you’re feeling so emotional right now, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. 

“Thank you for treating me like your equal, and for making King Hades into a better person.”

“Was he cruel?” You ask. 

“Very much so. He only cared about inflicting punishment upon those he believed ‘deserved’ it. This palace was a dark place, literally and figuratively. And then you came along, and things changed. He started...thanking the staff, being kinder with his punishments and, of course, pining after you. Personally, I think that he was just lonely and didn’t know how to handle his emotions.” 

You snort, but are concerned at the same time. How bad were things before you arrived? It’s not difficult for you to believe, but you find yourself not wanting to believe it at the same time. “Why does that not surprise me? However, I’m glad that my being here has changed his mood for the better.” 

Desa’s hands come to a stop, and she lays the brush back down once she’s deemed your hair to be untangled. “Master cares about you. I fear that your potential leaving would break him.”

You’re stunned at the handmaiden’s admission. You’ve had your worries about the same thing; would this man, who’s so convinced that you are meant to be here and has changed his entire worldview time and time again for you, be able to survive the pain of you leaving?

“I...I need to do what’s best for me, Desa. I know that Michael will be upset, but I miss my home.” 

“Is this not your home as well? I heard your conversation with Lady Hecate the other day. It’s okay to have multiple homes.” She’s right, but you hate that she is. 

“Just because I’ve kissed Michael a couple of times and have friends here doesn’t make it my home.” You clench your eyes shut, the lights exacerbating your headache. The woman knows she’s upset you, and she places a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Shall I take you to King Hades now?” You rub your eyes before nodding and standing. You’re cold, yet you can feel the sweat beading on your brow. 

You know the way to the throne room by heart now, the twists and turns of each corridor programmed into your mind. Although you attempt to use telekinesis to open the large doors, your arms wobble with the strain and you quickly give up. Desa looks at you in concern, but keeps quiet and opens the doors for you. 

Michael immediately brightens up when he sees you, standing up and making his way down the marble steps towards you. An onyx crown with blood-red rubies adorns his head, the same rubies fastening his cloak around his shoulders. His beautiful rings, each a different size and shape, decorate his long fingers. The court of demons that surround him part easily, all too afraid to get in their king’s way. You smile, grateful for the hand he holds out in your direction as he leads you up to his throne. You look at him in confusion, silently asking where you’re supposed to be.

“Once you agree to take your place as my queen, then you can have a throne of your own.” Michael teases, a delicate smile on his face. “Of course, you could always sit on my lap today if you don’t want to stand.” 

“I’ll stand, thank you very much.” Michael’s smile dims and he rolls his eyes, although you know he was expecting you to answer this way. “So what goes into these judgements?”

“There’s different ‘levels’ of the Underworld; Tartarus, the Asphodel Meadows, the Mourning Fields, and Elysium.”

“No Dante’s Inferno?” You ask, leaning against the cool backing of Michael’s throne. 

“That would actually be Tartarus. It’s split into nine different circles. Then you have the Asphodel Meadows, which is where mortals who lived unremarkable lives go. Those who spent their lives pining after an unrequited love are sent to the Mourning Fields, and Elysium is for the especially distinguished.” Michael explains.

Before you can ask your next question, another door opens on the other side of the throne rom. A large boat journeys across the floor, plumes of smoke serving as the river. The man ferrying the boat is appallingly disgusting, and you have to breathe through your mouth to avoid the pungent smell of death that emanates off of him. His cloak is ripped and dirty, and his bushy beard hasn’t been combed for years. His eyes look like they’re made of fire itself, and you flinch when he makes eye contact with you for a brief moment. 

“Charon.” Michael greets as the souls are ushered off of the boat. There’s so many of them, all different ages, genders, races, and religions. The man atop the boat gives a curt nod to his ruler, before turning the boat around and rowing back out the way he came. The demons that stand throughout the room hiss and growl at the souls standing in front of Michael, and you get the feeling that they get to do whatever they want to those who end up going to one of Tartarus’ circles. 

Michael studies the crowd for a long moment, as if he’s seeing something that you can’t. He is, you realize as you remember his gift of being able to see everything about a person. They’re silent, all huddled together as they try to make sense of what’s going on. You wonder if they even know that they’re dead, or where they are. 

“What do you see?” He asks, looking back towards you. 

“I see...people.” You shrug, not sure what answer he wants from you. 

“We’ll start out with an easy one. Take my hand.” It feels familiar by now, whenever you grip his large hand. At first you think it’s just an excuse for him to hold hands with you, but you gasp after you blink. 

The auras that you’ve heard so much about are all on display for you. Not only can you see them, but you can also feel what each color means. Yellows, blues, oranges, reds, and greens all mix together to form a rainbow above the heads of those crowded into the throne room. 

“Can you see them?” Michael asks lowly, and you nod breathlessly. You’re absolutely enraptured by what you’re seeing, and if it wasn’t for Michael grounding you, you wouldn’t be able to look away. “I want you to focus on the person with the light blue aura. Do you know who I’m talking about?” 

The person in question is a man in his mid-40s. He looks confused, but at the same time he’s trying to help comfort others who aren’t handling the current situation as well as he is. 

“What do I need to do?”

“Just concentrate. Zero in on him, and soon his life should play before your eyes like you’re watching a movie.”

You stare at the man intensely, until the tunnel-vision makes it so you can only see him and his aura. Your hand burns, most likely from the power you’re tapping into through Michael. A picture flickers before your eyes before fading away, and you squint and focus harder. The picture appears again, vividly now, and you watch the man’s life from beginning to end. He was a family man, an EMT who loved going to schools and doing demonstrations for kids. In the end, an aneurysm sent him to his untimely death. 

“Asphodel Meadows.” Your voice speaks before your mind has comprehended it. Michael looks proudly at you, nodding. 

“Very good! Mephistopheles,” He calls, and a demon with large black wings appears. “You’ll take our chosen guests to the Asphodel Meadows.” The demon nods, and beckons the man towards him. 

Michael continues on with the judgements, which you choose to watch instead of help conduct. You haven’t let go of Michael’s hand, and although you can see the auras, you’re not focusing enough to experience their lives. It passes quickly, Michael looking bored at what must be monotonous work for him. Finally, the demons lead off the groups of people to their designated afterlives, leaving you and Michael alone in the throne room. You’re tired, extremely so, and you’re not sure if it’s because you over-exerted yourself with using Michael’s magic or if it’s from whatever bug you’re trying to fight off. 

“You did wonderful, (Y/N). Your powers are expanding immensely.” He lets go of your hand to stand from his throne, and it’s only after he does that you realize the burning sensation you had been feeling on your palm was from him. 

Your hand is physically burnt, the skin red and blistering where Michael had gripped it. Studying the damage, you hide your hand from Michael when he turns around to see what you’re doing. 

“Why are you standing like that?” Michael, ever the perceptive man, questions. 

“Maybe I felt like mocking the way that you stand.” You retort, calling him out on the stance he often assumes whenever he stands in one spot.

“(Y/N).” He chides, obviously not impressed. You roll your eyes, but hold your hand out anyways. 

Michael’s eyes widen at the sight of your injured hand, hesitantly grasping your arm where your sleeve covers it so as not to accidentally burn you.

“Is it because you were letting me use some of your magic?” You ask. 

“I’m...honestly not sure. This hasn’t happened before when I’ve held your hand, right?”

“No. Sometimes my hand gets warm, but I always assumed that it was because I was holding the Lord of the Underworld’s hand.” You attempt to insert a little humor into this situation, hoping to make Michael smile. Instead, he looks completely stumped. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little confused too, but out of all of the things you’ve experienced in Hell, this is pretty tame. 

“Hmm.” Michael trails off, biting his bottom lip in concentration. You wait for him to speak again, but the longer he thinks, the more the room starts spinning around you. 

“Michael,” You call, bringing his eyes back to you. “Can you let go of my arm please?” You smile reassuringly, and he chuckles slightly before obliging. You start to walk down the steps, fully intending on taking a nap before doing some research.

“Where are you going? Don’t you want to figure out why your hand burnt?” You wave him off, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other so that you don’t trip over the ground. 

“I’m just tired, I’m gonna get some rest.” Michael says something to you, but you can’t hear it over the ringing in your ears. 

The piercing sound and bright lights combined with your dizziness have you crashing to your shaking knees. Michael’s beside you almost immediately, and you vaguely wonder if he sprinted or transmutated the short distance. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you up against his chest. 

“Why did you collapse?” He asks, and you’re taken aback at the fear in his eyes. 

“Just got really dizzy. I’ve been fighting something for the past week or so, guess it finally caught up to me. I didn’t even know you could get sick in the Underworld.” You mutter, smiling up at the blond man. 

He’s silent, eyes searching your face for some answer you’re not aware he’s looking for. 

“You can’t get sick in the Underworld.” He places the back of his hand against your forehead, and you let out a quiet groan at the coolness it provides you. “You’re burning up, (Y/N).” 

You shouldn’t laugh, seeing as how this is turning into a severe situation, but you snicker anyways. “I’m in Hell and I’m burning up.” 

Michael’s brows furrow, and he slides an arm under your legs so he can lift you up. “C’mon, let’s get you to your bed. You can rest while I talk to Madison; she’ll know what’s going on.” 

“No, I can walk!” You start to protest, but bury your face in Michael’s shirt when the room decides to tilt. He smells really nice, actually; a mix of smoke, vanilla, and something woodsy. 

“ _ No _ .” He says sharply, ending the argument before it can even start. You don’t look up from his shirt again, but you can still feel his piercing eyes on you as he carries you towards your room. 

You sink right into the mattress, grateful to finally not be moving or have the room spinning around you. Michael pulls the covers up around you, and you don’t even realize that your teeth are chattering until he runs a hand over your quaking jaw. 

“I’m going to go find Madison, okay? We’ll figure out why you’re so sick suddenly, and then she’ll make you one of her potions. You’ll be okay.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of this, which is mildly freaking you out. With a kiss on your forehead, he’s already halfway across the room, obviously on a mission. 

“Michael?” You call out. He looks back at you with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Yes, darling?” 

“Am I going to die?” You don’t want to even consider this as a possibility, but with how frazzled and scared Michael’s been, it seems that’s what’s on his mind too. His jaw sets, and he shakes his head. 

“Not if I have anything to do with it.” And he’s gone, leaving you alone with your worries. 


	11. Too Far Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're forced to come face-to-face with the idea of death; more specifically, your own death.

Members of the Underworld’s staff dart out of the way when they hear the large doors slamming, knowing that an angry god is making his way down the hallways. Michael’s frantic in trying to find any of his advisors; the severity of the illness that you’re not supposed to have makes this a race against time.

“Thanatos! Have you seen Madison anywhere?” Michael asks, nearly running into the eyeless man outside of the training gym. He shakes his head, frowning. 

“She got called up Above, something about some witches in Greendale trying to perform an exorcism. Why?” 

“It’s (Y/N).” 

“What’s wrong with (Y/N)?”

“She’s sick, which-”

“Isn’t possible.” Michael nods, lips set in a thin line. 

“I need to find Madison.  _ Now _ .” Michael starts walking quickly, setting a pace where even Thanatos has to hustle to keep up with him. 

“Michael, it’s too risky for you to leave the Underworld right now. We don’t know Satan’s plans, where he is or if he can even tell if you’ve left.”

“He’s in Tartarus, problem solved!”

“You don’t know that for certain.” Thanatos is the voice of reason, but it’s a voice that Michael doesn’t want to hear right now.

Michael Langdon has lived a very long life. He’s seen the best of humanity, those who band together after tragedy to make something great. He’s seen the worst of humanity, men who could care less about the lives of others and who would gladly kill just to make things easier. Civilizations have risen and fallen, the great thinkers of the world have had their turns at walking the Earth and developing their ideas, all before Michael’s very eyes. Death is something he’s all-too accustomed to, and it’s the one thing that absolutely everybody in the history of humanity, no matter the manmade categories they separate themselves into, has in common. For the first time in as long as he can recall, Michael Langdon is scared, and he’s scared of a lot. 

He’s scared of the possibility of losing his throne. He’s scared that he could soon have to fight a battle against the being who created him. He’s scared that the Apocalypse could happen, causing the scales to be thrown into chaos and the lands of both living and dead to blur together. But mostly, he’s scared that he could lose you. No, not scared.  _ Terrified _ . 

While few live mortals have ever stepped foot in the Underworld, none have ever gotten sick, and for good reason: there’s nothing Below that could make a human sick. While sickness can often lead to death, viruses themselves are intrinsically living. They wouldn’t be able to even make it down to the Underworld, and any viruses that could are already long-dead and, therefore, harmless. The fact that you have managed to become so violently ill in such a short amount of time would be frightening enough, but the fact that there’s no discernable reason why you’re sick in the first place makes Michael’s blood run cold. 

“It’s a risk I’m going to have to take. It shouldn’t take me too long to find Madison, and once I do find her we’ll be right back here.”

“Why do you need to find me?” Both men turn around, relieved to see Madison standing ten feet ahead of them. She’s scowling, her black cloak dripping with what looks like a classic case of demon vomit. 

“Tough demon?” Thanatos asks, barely hiding his smirk. 

“Of course, because things can’t ever be simple when it comes to witches from Greendale.” Madison huffs, rolling her eyes. She snaps her fingers and replaces her ruined clothes with something more ‘comfortable’ (which is really just another one of her tight black dresses), before looking at her friends with a raised eyebrow. “Well?”

“It’s (Y/N), she’s sick and I don’t know how. You’re the only person I could think of who would be able to help.” Michael explains. 

“How’s she sick? People don’t get sick here, there’s nothing to get sick from.” 

“Yes, we’ve established that.” Michael snaps, immediately regretting the tone of voice he used. “I’m sorry, it’s been…”

Madison nods, letting him know that she understands as she places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Let me go grab some spell books that I think might help, and then I’ll meet you at (Y/N)’s room?” Her voice is uncharacteristically gentle, but Michael doesn’t have time to overanalyze this on top of everything else.

Madison disappears once Michael gives her the nod of approval. He goes to head back to (Y/N)’s room, thankful that he had ran into Desa before coming into contact with Thanatos. Speaking of which, the God of Death still looms behind Michael like a shadow. He hasn’t spoken since he greeted Madison, and Michael’s not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He notices Michael looking at him and smiles reassuringly. 

“I’m going to conduct some research of my own, if that’s okay with you?” 

“Of course. If I may ask, research on what subject?” 

“I’m going to pay a visit to our dear friend Pythia.” 

Pythia, the divine Oracle that was most frequently consulted at Delphi back during the height of Greek civilization. She, along with the rest of civilization, moved west as humanity advanced. As the roles of the gods changed throughout time, so did Pythia’s job. Now, she was mainly consulted to help decode texts or mediate between two warring parties. Her wisdom is still beyond compare to any Oracle, so she tends to demand quite the price for her knowledge of prophecies that were told to her. 

“Make sure that she remembers that she owes me for helping to save her reputation after what happened with Castor and Pollux.” Just saying the names of those conniving twins makes Michael’s skin crawl, but he knows that Thanatos will have to namedrop in order to get her to actually recall that debacle. 

“I will return with answers and, hopefully, a solution.” Thanatos hesitates for a moment, and Michael can tell that he’s considering whether what he’s about to say is overstepping his role as advisor. “(Y/N)’s a fighter, Michael. She’ll be okay.”

Michael smiles slightly, nodding. Thanatos, for all his fear-inducing qualities, can also be surprisingly reassuring when he wants to be. 

“Thank you, Thanatos.” Both men disappear, albeit off to different locations. 

Desa and Madison don’t even flinch when Michael shows up in (Y/N)’s room, both long-since accustomed to the act of transmutation. The handmaiden’s sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, having been instructed to keep watch over (Y/N). Truth be told, Desa probably would have assumed this position even if Michael hadn’t told her to; she’s become extremely attached to (Y/N). Madison’s standing over a sleeping (Y/N), eyes closed and muttering spells in Latin. 

“How long has she been asleep for?” Michael asks, not able to take his eyes off of her form.

“Since before I came in here.” Desa answers, which means she must have fallen asleep right after Michael left. 

Nobody wants to face the wrath of an interrupted Madison, so there’s nothing to do now but wait for her to finish. Michael sits on the bed next to (Y/N), stroking her hair. Her forehead’s still incredibly warm, the heat extending down her face and past her neck. It’s only another minute before Madison stops her chanting and opens her eyes. 

“Was the fever the only noticeable symptom?” Madison asks. 

“She got really dizzy, and almost passed out. She said she had been tired too, and I suspect she was dizzy for a while before I saw her.” Michael responds, looking up at the goddess. “Did you find anything out?”

“It’s...serious.” Michael’s breath hitches, and he grips (Y/N)’s hand as a result. It’s cold, and Michael focuses a bit of his power to help warm it up.

“How serious?” 

“(Y/N)’s heart rate is really fast, so is her breathing. What makes this concerning is that her blood pressure is extremely low. I’m obviously not a doctor, but her body’s basically trying to fight itself.”

“But you can fix things, correct? You have potions and elixirs for for everything.” 

“I’m going to get started on some potions, but it’s going to be a challenge.” 

“Why?” His patience is running thin. Although Michael knows that it’s not Madison’s fault, he’s expecting (hoping) for it to be an easy fix. 

“Because I still don’t know what she’s sick with, Michael. All of my potions are designed to attack at the source. I’m going to have to work backwards, and mix different potions together. It’s going to take some time.” Madison snaps. Michael sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose while he breathes deeply. 

“I’m sorry, Madison. I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I know that you’re trying and I’m thankful for that.”

“It’s fine.” It’s not fine, but they’re all stressed right now. “I’m going to go get started. You should attend to your own duties, too. Desa will be here the whole time, and (Y/N)’s probably just going to be asleep.”

Madison leaves the room, throwing one last look back over her shoulder to make sure Michael’s okay. 

“Lady Hecate is right, sir. (Y/N) will be okay.” Desa says, eyes cast down to her lap while she addresses her king. 

“You’ll let me know if anything happens, right?” Desa looks shocked that Michael’s actually asking her a question, not demanding something of her or telling her what to do. 

“Yes sir, I’ll even alert you when she wakes up if you’d like.” Michael nods, standing from the bed. 

“Thank you, Desa. You’ve been a good friend to (Y/N), and a great asset to me. I appreciate it.” Desa looks like she’s about to pass out from the compliment, and Michael has to hold back a chuckle. 

“Thank you, sir.” She squeaks, her face bright red.

Michael leans down and places a quick kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead, smiling when her eyes flutter at the sensation. With a quick glance, he’s out the door, a god on a mission. 

* * *

Time passes in a blur when a person’s asleep. Sometimes, you’ll wake up for a moment after what you thought was an entire night’s worth of sleeping, only to find out that it was barely thirty minutes. Other times, you’ll nod off and wake up to discover that you were asleep for ten hours. You feel this way a lot lately; time is no match when it comes to sleep.

It reminds you a lot of your first days in the Underworld. You’ve even had the same dreams that you did so long ago, nightmares of fire and screaming and falling, but also dreams of family and friends and laughter. From what you’ve been able to discern when you’re awake and people are willing to give you answers, Madison’s spent three days trying to find a potion to cure you and Thanatos is still gone on a mission to visit an Oracle.

Consciousness is a plane that you constantly drift in and out of. Sometimes you’ll be awake for only a few moments, the heads of whoever’s visiting you swimming into your vision before you’re pulled back under. Other times, the pain of the fever wracking through your body has you crying out in agony for hours on end. You can see how concerned everybody is about you. Desa keeps watch over you day and night, always sitting in the chair closest to the window. Sometimes she works on sewing, or reads a book, but mostly she just watches you. She’s also extremely attentive, bringing glasses of water up to your trembling lips whenever you’re lucid enough to swallow. 

Mostly, though, whenever you’re awake you see Michael. Apparently, Desa’s supposed to tell him the second you wake up, and tell him she does. It’s almost like magic ( _ probably is magic _ , you remind yourself), how quickly he arrives when you’re awake. He refuses to leave until after you’re asleep, no matter how much you tell him that you’re fine. You’re not fine, and everybody knows it, but it’s nice to be hopeful. 

He tries to get you to eat, although you can’t handle anything more than a few bites of toast a day. He holds you when the fever is at its worst, and reminds you where you are when you’re so sick that you’re delirious. If you think Desa’s attentive, Michael takes the meaning of that word to a whole different level. But in the times where you’re feeling well enough to hold a conversation, which seems to be getting fewer and fewer as the days without a diagnosis drag on, Michael’s so incredibly sweet. He’ll read to you, tell you his favorite stories, and just talk. It’s funny that it’s taken you getting critically ill for you to truly get to know Michael. 

Although he doesn’t have much of a childhood to talk about when he asks about yours, he can still talk to you about the adventures he’s been on throughout his life. You talk about politics and religion, art and music, even things as inconsequential as your favorite colors. Now, you could say confidently that you know Michael more than you know your best friends. It’s funny, you find yourself thinking cynically, that you only get to know him as you near your death. 

They should have known that this was coming. They’re gods, gods of various aspects of death and dying and all things dead, and they should have been able to recognize that a person suddenly gets better before they crash. You’ve been constantly lucid the past two days, and though your fever hadn’t broke, it had managed to stay at 100. You weren’t better, but you weren’t worse. It’s an extremely common part of the process of dying, and one they should have recognized. But they didn’t, and even if they had, it wouldn’t matter now. 

Because you’re dying.

Everything around you is blurry, and you have to rely on voices to discern who’s who. The fever’s worse than ever, and even though someone is periodically dabbing your sweaty forehead with a wet cloth, you don’t feel hot. You’re actually pretty cold, and you’ve requested more blankets at least three times now. The blood that you’ve been heaving up leaves specks on your chapped lips, and your heart is beating so fast that you can hear it in your ears. Shakes wrack through your body, and the worst headache you’ve ever had has forced the lights to be dimmed. 

“At least...you won’t have to worry about the apocalypse...now that I’m gonna die. You’ll have my soul. You win.” You try to joke, having to stop often to take deep breaths. Even though you can’t see clearly, you can still tell that Michael doesn’t smile. 

“I wish it would work like that. Your soul is too pure, I’ll barely get to see you before you’ll go off to Elysium.”

“I can’t stay with you?” 

“Souls that are untethered, that is, souls who aren’t assigned to their afterlives, they...fade away into nothing. The palace isn’t an afterlife, and even if it were, souls couldn’t be tethered to it.” You close your eyes, smiling bitterly and leaning back against the pillows. 

“So this is it.” It’s not a question. You know that this is it. 

“(Y/N)...” Your eyes open when you feel something wet on your face, and after focusing for a few moments you realize that Michael’s crying. 

Reaching a shaking hand up to wipe them away startles Michael, who grabs your wrist with his own hand and leaning into the contact. Michael wants to speak, but he’s stopped by the door bursting open. You flinch at the sound of wood hitting the wall, causing a lightning bolt of pain to flare in your head. 

“Michael.” A deep voice says. This must be Thanatos, who you never got the chance to properly meet. 

“Finally back from visiting Pythia?” Michael’s voice is thick with emotion, and you rub circles on his cheek with your thumb. 

“I am so sorry, it took me a week just to track her down.” Thanatos hangs his head in shame.

“Well, what did she say?”

“Not that it’ll help much, anyways. You’re too late.” Madison says from the corner of the room, where Zoe’s holding her after she broke down apologizing to you for not finding a cure. 

“‘ _ Nothing living can survive in the Underworld. _ ’” Thanatos quotes. 

“But...that doesn’t make sense? (Y/N)’s supposed to be the Queen of the Underworld, and even then her connection with the dead should exempt-” Michael doesn’t even care when Thanatos cuts him off, too preoccupied with studying you. 

“I’m quoting Pythia directly. She said nothing about exemptions, just that nothing living can survive here. Period, end of sentence.”

“What about the flowers? (Y/N) made those grow.” Madison points out. 

“But the second I passed by, they died.” Michael mutters before looking up at Madison. “By virtue of her powers, (Y/N) was giving them her life. Once she stopped focusing on them, they died.”

“Being here is what’s killing her.” They stare at each other for a long moment, and you almost wonder if they can communicate telepathically. 

“I can’t leave, Satan’s not in Tartarus anymore and if I leave, he will attempt to seize the throne. You need to take her Above, Madison.” 

You cry out, attempting to sit up. You can’t go back, not when you haven’t found a solution. Leaving not only means the end of the world, it also means that Michael could potentially die as his father tries to take the Underworld. It sucks, honestly, that it’s taken you being on the verge of dying to realize just how deeply you care for Michael. 

“You could die if I leave!” You argue. Michael picks you up like you weigh nothing, and although you try to fight him off, you’re far too weak to inflict any real sort of pain on him. 

“And you  _ will _ die if you stay!” Your vision clears now that you’re nose-to-nose with Michael, and you can see just how fiercely he’s staring at you. “I won’t let you die, (Y/N). Even if it means having to give up the one thing that has brought me true happiness, I will not allow you to die.”

He deposits you into Madison’s arms, still refusing to let go of you.

“Take her to the hospital closest to her house. If anyone asks, you’re her roommate and you found her passed out on the floor when you got home from class. She’s been sick, but told you she was getting better.” Michael instructs, moving your hair out of your face. 

“I’ll make sure she gets the best care possible.” Madison nods, her eyes speaking volumes more than her one sentence. 

“I have one more thing to say, and then you need to leave immediately.” Michael takes your hand, looking you in the eyes once more. “I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I never thought I’d know what love is, but I do now. You are what love is, and I love you endlessly.” 

He kisses your burning lips quickly before pulling away. 

“Now, Madison!” 

You’re not sure if Madison knocks you out so you’ll survive the strenuous journey Above, or if you pass out on your own, but you can feel unconsciousness enveloping you like a blanket. Tears are falling down your cheeks, and before you fully succumb to the blackness, you call out his name. 

“ _ Michael! _ ”


	12. Wish You Were Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You just hallucinated being Below, at least that's what everybody tells you. Being on the brink of death apparently brings about vivid hallucinations as a way to cope, but you know the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes this chapter summary is so shitty, sorry y'all.

Madison rushes through the doors of Cedars-Sinai’s emergency room, carrying an unconscious (Y/N) in her arms. The journey from the Below to the surface had somehow not killed (Y/N), which Madison had been extremely worried about. 

“Help, please!” She yells out, a swarm of doctors and nurses converging around her. Madison places (Y/N) on the hospital bed, almost immediately getting shoved out of the way so the medical professionals can start checking vitals. 

“What happened?” A nurse breaks away to stand near Madison. 

“I don’t know, she’s been sick for a few days but said she was getting better. Then I came home today, and (Y/N) was passed out on the floor of the bathroom. She wouldn't wake up and she was barely breathing.” Madison stutters out. 

“You’re her roommate?” 

“Yeah, one of them.” She mentally gives herself a pat on the back at her acting skills, which are more than believable. “We live next door to the Murder House, so this was the closest hospital to us.” 

They had been walking without even realizing it, following the doctors working on (Y/N). The nurse places a hand on Madison’s shoulder, stopping her from walking through the double doors leading back to the restricted area of the hospital. 

“I’m sorry, you can’t come back any further. We’ll take good care of your friend, though.” Madison nods, looking the nurse in the eye and performing a quick Concilium spell on him. 

“You’ll contact (Y/N)’s other roommates, their information should be on her phone. You’re going to give (Y/N) the best care possible, and an anonymous donor has already paid off her hospital bill. You never saw me, (Y/N) showed up here alone.” Madison commands, watching to make sure the spell takes effect on him before breaking the connection. 

He shakes his head slightly, blinking in confusion before walking away and allowing Madison to slip out of the hospital. She doesn’t have to use a Hellmouth traveling back this time, since she’ll be making the journey back home alone. With a quick glance around to make sure nobody’s watching, Madison backs into an empty alley and wills herself to descend to the Underworld. It’s not at all surprising that Zoe finds her the second she stumbles into the hall, having only been gone for twenty minutes in Above time. She wraps her arms around the small girl, Michael’s screams of pain echoing through the castle. 

“He locked himself in his office immediately after you left, we’ve heard yelling and crashing since then. I’ve never seen him like this before, Mads.” The lights flicker with another yell, verifying that he’s not okay. 

Madison’s never seen him like this, either. The only time his emotions even came close to this level was when Satan had influenced him a couple of hundred years ago to help him with the end of the world, causing Michael to be temporarily stripped of his powers and banished from his kingdom and Olympus. He wandered the Earth alone for a month, desperately trying to figure out how to get back in the good graces of the Olympians. While that was despair, this is completely different. 

This is heartbreak. 

“I’m going to go and check on him, make sure he’s okay.” Madison kisses Zoe’s forehead, holding her tightly before letting go.

“Is he going to let you in?” 

“He doesn’t really have a choice. I’ll break the door down if that’s what it takes.” She walks quickly towards the God of the Dead’s private chambers, heels clacking loudly on the marble floor. 

The charm that normally keeps the main door of his chambers locked is broken, Michael not having bothered with reapplying it after he made his way here. His office is locked, but he’s obviously in there. When Madison knocks on the door, the noises abruptly stop.

“Michael, I know you’re in there.” She sighs, leaning against the door and wiggling the handle. “Let me in or else I’m going to bust the door down.” 

Nothing.

“I’m being serious, and then I’m going to make sure that you have to rebuild the door from scratch by yourself.” That gets his attention, and Madison can hear him shuffling around again. 

The door swings open by itself, and Madison quickly walks through before Michael decides to change his mind. The sight that she comes across has her stifling a gasp; Madison’s seen a lot of things in her long life, but never has she seen this. Michael’s usually-pristine office is a complete wreck. Books have been torn apart and thrown everywhere, paintings are slashed, and the couch cushions are ripped open. The bookshelves lay toppled on their sides, and Michael’s prized desk is in splinters. The blond man sits in the middle of the carnage, head in his hands as his shoulders shake. It’s jarring to see him like this, so uncomposed and not at all in control of his emotions.

“Michael.” Madison says gently, falling onto her knees next to him. Her hand hovers above his shoulder, but she doesn’t dare lay it on him yet. 

“Did you get her to a hospital?” He asks quietly, but Madison can still hear his voice shake with tears. 

“The best one in the area. They’re going to take good care of her, I made sure of that.” They both sit in silence for a while longer, but Madison can tell that her presence is having a calming effect on Michael’s emotions. 

“She’s never going to be able to come back here. She’ll die if she does.” He’s stating the obvious, but Madison has a hunch that he’s still trying to come to terms with the situation. 

“Why’d you let her go?” Madison asks. 

Michael looks up, watery eyes shooting Madison a half-hearted glare. Tears are still making tracks down his face, which is red and slightly swollen from all of the crying. His hair’s a mess, and she can tell that he’s been yanking on it. 

“I couldn’t let her die.” 

“I know, but why? If (Y/N) died down here, there’s a good chance the apocalypse wouldn’t even happen. Now, we don’t know-”

“It’s not  _ about  _ that anymore, Madison!” Michael yells, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “I love her. I never want to see her hurt, or in pain, or even slightly unhappy. If...if being down here harms her, then I have no choice but to let her go.” 

“And now…”

“Now I’m never going to get to see her again, because we’ll have to fight Satan for the duration of her mortal life. I’m trapped down here until we defeat my father.” Michael laughs bitterly, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling. “Well, now I know how (Y/N) felt when I first brought her down here.”

Madison wants to reason with him, to let him know that she’s going to do anything possible to reunite him and (Y/N), but she can’t hide her shock when Michael breaks into a fresh round of tears. In that moment, they’re not gods. They’re not a king and his advisor, or two people working together to run an empire. In that moment, they’re just two friends, one of whom is heartbroken. Madison pulls Michael against her, letting him cry in her arms for the remainder of the night.

* * *

 

Piecing together everything that happened before you landed in the hospital is tough, and it’s certainly not helped by all the drugs the doctors have you on. Luckily, you haven’t had to do too much thinking. If you’re not sleeping, your friends are constantly at your bedside. They tell you stories about what’s been happening outside the walls of the hospital, get you whatever you need whenever you need it, and provide comfort when you just want someone to hold your hand. They try to steer the conversation away from your sickness whenever you ask about it, assuming that it’s still too traumatic for you to hear. It probably is, and you just don’t want to realize it. 

The doctors still aren’t sure how you developed such an advanced stage of sepsis, or even how you were still alive when you stumbled into the hospital three weeks ago. All of your organs were shutting down, and you had lost a heart rate three times while you were in a medically-induced coma in the ICU for that first week. Your medical staff is only mildly shocked at how well you’ve recovered, and they jokingly call you their ‘medical miracle’ whenever they see you. You recovered so well that you even got discharged today. You’re grateful to be alive, and even more grateful that there’s no lasting side effects to being so sick, but you’re still confused about one thing: why is everyone saying that you came to the hospital alone?

When you had tried to ask about where Madison was, everyone was confused. There was no Madison, they told you, even after you insisted that she was the one who had brought you here. They were only more concerned when you started talking about what had happened before you got sick, listening as you told them about being kidnapped by Michael and dragged to the Underworld. If you were lucid during that time, you wouldn’t have even mentioned anything, but the morphine took away the filter you normally had. The doctors told you that vivid hallucinations are common with sepsis like yours, and that it wasn’t all that surprising that your mind had dreamt up such fantastical scenarios. Besides, the timelines that you were giving everyone didn’t match up. You described being in the Underworld for weeks, if not months, but your roommates told you that they hadn’t seen you around for a mere two days before you turned up in the hospital. 

Even after they told you that you only hallucinated your experiences, you still believed what you saw. Michael may have had to stay behind to prevent Satan from seizing his throne, but surely he or Madison would come visit you to make sure that you were okay? As the days passed, though, there was no sign of either of them. You saw or experienced nothing even remotely supernatural; one night, after being particularly frustrated that nobody was believing you, you had tried to practice your magic so you could show your friends that you weren’t hallucinating. Unfortunately, nothing happened. You spent an hour focusing as hard as you could, willing yourself to use one of the Seven Wonders that you had already mastered. 

Nothing moved, set itself on fire, or grew. You didn’t have any powers, and you just ended up looking like you were stretching your arms for an extended period of time. It was, figuratively, the final nail in the coffin that led you to believe that you really had just hallucinated the entire experience of being in the Underworld. Still, even now that you’re back at home, you can’t stop thinking about it. Everything just seemed so  _ real _ . From the people that you met, to the magic that you learned, to the kisses you shared with Michael. They were tangible experiences, or so you had thought before waking up in that hospital bed with a bunch of wires and tubes attached to you. 

You’re still pretty weak, but the cabin fever that accompanies a nearly month-long hospital stay has made you desperate to get outside and experience some fresh air. Your roommates, bless their sweet souls, had gone out and bought a porch swing so that you could be outside without it being too strenuous for you. That’s where you sit now, after taking a couple of hours to shower and take a nice nap in your own bed. Breathing deeply, the sunlight warms your sun-deprived skin while the wind whistles lightly through the trees. It’s incredibly peaceful, and you find yourself starting to nod off while rocking yourself back and forth on the swing. 

The distant sound of the traffic passing by on the freeway doesn’t bother you, surprisingly. What does bother you is the dog down the street that won’t stop barking. You can hear it through your music, and it’s only getting louder. Even turning the volume on your music up all the way doesn’t help, so you huff and open your eyes in order to see how cute the dog that’s interrupting your impromptu naptime is. A black labrador runs down the street, a red rubber ball in his mouth. You smile at the sight, but a voice at the back of your head tells you that you’ve seen this dog before. 

“...Cerberus?” You say quietly, feeling ridiculous at thinking that you know this random dog. 

Although the dog doesn’t respond to the name, the very sight of another human on the street has him changing directions and running up the sidewalk towards you. He’s a sweet dog, immediately sitting down in front of you and laying his large head on your lap. You reward him with hearty scratches on his head, massaging his floppy ears. 

“You’re such a sweet boy!” You coo, smiling when he drops the ball next to you. “Where’s your owner? Are you lost?”

“Nope, not lost.” A feminine voice calls from the abandoned yard of the Murder House.

You look up, squinting at the glare of the sun as you attempt to see who this dog belongs to. When the figure finally steps close enough to be more than a silhouette, your eyes widen and your jaw drops. 

“Madison?” You don’t really believe that this actually is the Madison of your hallucinations, and you’re fully expecting her to give you her correct name. Instead she smirks, climbing the steps of the porch and leaning against the wooden railing. 

“Surprise, bitch. Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.” You squeal, Madison’s eyes widening when you go to stand up. “Don’t get up, I don’t want you to overexert yourself!” 

She sits down on the swing next to you, and this time she’s the one to initiate a hug. 

“You’re real!” You hold her tightly, tears filling your eyes while Madison chuckles. 

“Why wouldn’t I be real?” 

“They told me all the stuff about the Underworld was just a hallucination, and that those are common when you almost die.” 

“I’m too iconic to just be a hallucination, babe.” She smirks, studying your face. “I’m so glad you’re okay, (Y/N). I really thought you were going to die.”

“I did, too.” You snort. “Why didn’t you come and visit me?” 

“I did, but I cloaked myself so that mortals like you couldn’t see me. It makes things easier and causes people to ask less questions.” She shrugs. 

“How’s Michael? Why didn’t he come with you?” Cerberus’ ears perk at the sound of his master’s name. 

“He can’t leave the Underworld yet.” She explains gently. 

“So Satan’s still at-large?” Madison nods, taking a long drag from the cigarette that dangles between her fingers. 

“For now. We’ve weakened him, but we’re still trying to find a way to permanently get rid of what consists of his soul. Michael’s...hanging in there. It’s been rough for him, knowing that he was the cause of your near-death.” 

“I want to see him.” You demand. 

“(Y/N), you can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Do you remember anything from right before we left?” You shake your head, trying to think back to that day. 

“All I remember is the fever. I couldn’t even see your faces because they were blurry, and it sounded like everyone was talking underwater.” 

“Well, we figured out why you got so sick. Nothing living can survive in the Underworld.” You furrow your eyebrows, looking at Madison in confusion. 

“That doesn’t make any sense. How am I supposed to be the Queen of the Underworld if I can’t actually live down there?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out. For now, though, you can’t visit Below.”

“So I can’t be Below, and Michael can’t be Above?” Madison nods, and you can almost feel your heart clenching in pain at the thought. “I’m never going to be able to see him again.” 

You can tell that Madison wants to reassure you that this won’t be the case, but even she knows that it doesn’t look too promising right now. 

“He misses you, a lot. We all do. Things are the same without you.” 

“I miss you guys, too.” You smile, wondering what everyone is doing right now. 

“Listen, I really want to stay but I can’t. Michael doesn’t even know that I went Above, and I need to get back before he realizes that I’m gone.” 

“You’ll come back though, right?” It probably sounds pathetic, how scared you are at the thought of never seeing Madison again, but she just smiles reassuringly and grips your hand tightly. 

“Of course I will. I promise.” She stands up, Cerberus following her movements and looking up at her obediently. “Don’t die or trigger the apocalypse while I’m gone, okay?”

“I’ll try my hardest.” 

Madison leans forward to kiss your cheek before disappearing, a strong gust of wind and her crushed cigarette butt the only signs that she was here in the first place.


	13. Finding You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A possible way to make it back to the Underworld long enough to defeat Satan is discovered. But will it come at a price?

Out of all of the bad things that come along with almost dying, the sudden ‘caring’ attitudes of family and friends you hardly know is one of the worst. Since your release from the hospital a couple of days ago, you’ve been inundated with texts and calls from people who you didn’t even know had your phone number. Classmates who haven’t talked to you since the day you graduated high school flood your social media, all saying how “you’re the sweetest person I know” and that “I know we haven’t talked much recently, but…” It’s sickening, how people flock to tragedies just so they can say they’re connected. 

However, being on the brink of death does bring visits from your favorite family members whom you haven’t been able to see for extended periods of time, due to one reason or another. There truly is nothing like being critically ill to bring a family back together. Today, you’re lucky to have one of your favorite family members stopping by for a long-overdue visit. 

John Henry Moore, your mother’s cousin and one of your most beloved ‘uncles,’ is one of the so-called outcasts of your family. He’s constantly gone on shady business, teaches at a boys’ boarding school in the middle of a desert in California, and supposedly dabbles in the dark occult. He’s elegant, well-spoken, and totally weird; you love him dearly. 

“You’re looking well, darling niece.” John Henry says, swinging the porch swing you’re both sitting on. A rare rainstorm has been drenching the city all day, leaving the sky gloomy and the the air smelling sweet. 

“You don’t need to lie to me, Uncle John.” You smirk, knowing that you look like a hospital patient and you're still pretty weak. 

“I promise you I’m not. Considering you almost died, the mere fact that you’re alive and smiling is incredibly good to see.” John Henry chuckles when a sudden clap of thunder has you jumping slightly, settling his hand on top of yours. “Something troubles you, (Y/N). What is it?”

You look at him in surprise, his intuition just as strong as you’ve always known it to be. 

“You’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you.” You say finally, looking him in the eyes. John Henry smiles slightly, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge you. 

“Try me.”

“Uncle, do you believe in witches and warlocks? Magic?” He doesn’t look shocked, or incredulous. Instead he grins, turning to face you. 

“It appears there’s something I need to tell you, as well.” 

From here you tell him the entire story. Your meeting with Michael, how he lured you down to a Hellmouth and brought you to the Underworld. The prophecy about you that had been written thousands of years ago. Learning magic and accepting your fate, as well as your relationship with Michael and the second prophecy that almost got him killed. In return, John Henry tells you his own dirty little secret. He’s a powerful warlock who teaches at a school for warlocks and serves on a secret council that oversees all of the witches and warlocks in the world. 

“So you’ve met Hecate, then?” John Henry asks, lips twitching. 

“I have. She’s...my friend.”

“A lot to handle, isn’t she?”

“You’ve met her, too?” Your eyes twinkle at knowing that other people have had the joy of meeting Madison. 

“Hecate is the mother of magic and witchcraft. As a member of the council, I am in frequent contact with her.” He stands, crossing over to the railing and leaning against it as he looks out at the Murder House. “So, you’re supposed to be the Queen of the Underworld?”

“Apparently.” You smile sheepishly. “I didn’t believe it at first, either, but it’s true. I’ve seen how it works.” 

“But a second prophecy makes it impossible for mortals to survive in the Underworld.”

“Even though I’m supposed to rule the Underworld, I also can’t survive there as a mortal. I’ll die down there, but if I’m not down there Satan will use Michael to blur the lines between the living and the dead and start the Apocalypse.” 

“Well, it appears you’re facing a true catch-twenty two.” He says dryly, lighting a cigarette with his pyrokinesis. 

“Not even Madi-Hecate has been able to find a loophole around these two prophecies. I’m a mortal, and I’ll forever be a mortal. Unless you can find a stray vampire that would be willing to change me?” You joke, attempting to use humor as a coping mechanism. 

“No, no nice vampires at least.” John Henry takes a couple of deep drags from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs for as long as possible before releasing it. It’s a very Madison-esque move, and it’s one that has your heart clenching painfully for your second home. “Let me ask you something, (Y/N). Obviously, your reasoning behind wanting to return to the the Underworld lies in the fact that you do not want to inadvertently trigger the Apocalypse, which I understand and am fully behind. But, is there a small part of you that has an ulterior motive?”

“An ulterior motive?” You question, watching as a conspiratorial smile spreads on his face. 

“Do you...do you love Hades?” 

“I don’t think so?” You say hesitantly. “I like Michael a lot, and I like him romantically, but we had only just started expressing our affection for each other a few days before I got sick.”

John Henry nods half-heartedly, and you can tell he’s thinking. What about, though, you’re not quite sure. Everytime you want to interrupt and ask what’s on his mind, his facial expressions change completely. It’s almost like he’s having a conversation with himself, and it makes him look like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

“I think that I might have an idea.” He says suddenly, causing you to shoot up (well, shoot up as quickly as a person still recovering from sepsis can) off of the swing.

“Really?” 

“I need to gather some supplies, but I should be back within a half hour. I’ll meet you back here.” With that he disappears dramatically, off to go and get the aforementioned supplies. 

Your uncle is a man of his word, and 35 minutes you’re sitting on the bottom step in the basement of the Murder House while John Henry sets up the supplies he had left to grab. 

“So you’re making an altar?” You ask, taking in the different colored cloths that sit on the small table. 

“Hecate is very particular when it comes to being summoned. She requires a lot, which really isn’t that surprising. Three cloths: black for the Underworld, red for the middle world, and white for the upper world.” With each color, he picks up the corresponding cloth and spreads it out, placing items on top of each one. “Animal bones go on the black, wine on the red, and a plant on the white.”

“Something dead, something stagnant, and something growing?” You guess. John Henry looks over his shoulder, smiling at you. 

“Very good. The three stages of life.” 

The candles he’s set up around the altar all light up suddenly when he snaps his fingers, and he holds his hands out with his palms facing the ground. He starts chanting, switching easily between Latin and English whenever the incantation calls for it. When the wind from the Hellmouth reaches the main part of the basement and blows the candles out, the chanting only increases. You hum happily upon smelling the familiar scents of lavender, smoke, and dirt, nose seeing Madison before your eyes do. 

“Well, well, well, it’s been an awfully long time since I had a  _ warlock _ summon me.” Madison’s standing before John Henry, sunglasses perched on her head and black lace dress rustling in the wind. “Why does it not surprise me that the only tolerable warlock I’ve met in ages is associated with you, (Y/N)?” 

You stand up, but choose not to pull your friend into a hug when she’s here on official business. John Henry’s head is bowed in respect as Madison relights the candles, an apparent sign for him to look back up. 

“John Henry Moore is my uncle.” You explain, smiling when she smirks. 

“Hecate, I thank you for choosing to receive my offerings.” He speaks up, causing you both to look at him. 

“Why have you summoned me here today?” She asks.

“I think I may have a way for (Y/N) to return to the Underworld without being harmed anymore, at least long enough for Satan to be defeated.” 

“How?” Madison’s intrigued, and you are too. 

“The Seven Wonders. If (Y/N) truly does possess both light and night magic, then it should be a given that she’ll pass the Seven Wonders. You’ll still be mortal, but there will be a part of you that is the Supreme. You’ll be able to stay in the Underworld for a longer amount of time before the effects start to reach your mortal being, and thus, you’ll be able to defeat Satan.” Madison looks surprised at this suggestion, but you bite your lip in worry. 

“Uncle, are you sure I’m strong enough? I can barely walk without getting winded, and not to mention that I couldn’t do any sort of magic when I attempted it in the hospital.”

“You were on so many drugs in the hospital, it doesn’t surprise me that your magic was repressed. The more Wonders you complete, the more vitality you experience. Think of it as levelling up. Each time you are successful, you’re healed in some way. The Supreme is meant to be the picture of a strong witch, and your magic won’t allow you to be so ill.” You’re more than shocked when Madison defends John Henry’s’ suggestion. 

“What happens if I fail?”

“You won’t. I know you won’t.” Madison and John Henry both stare at you as you consider what you’re about to do. 

Six of the Seven Wonders don’t scare you at all; if you fail, everyone will just find a different way to stop the Apocalypse. If you fail at descensum, however, that’s it. Game over. You’ve seen the consequences of failing that wonder, and it terrifies you to think about what being stuck in your personal hell for all eternity would be like. But if you do pass, like Madison believes you will, it would mean gaining immense amounts of power that would help you to defeat Satan and stop the end of the world before it even starts. Not only that, but you would be guaranteed to at least see Michael one more time in your life.

“I’ll do it.” You say finally, nodding your head decisively. 

“We shall conduct your tests at the Hawthorne School, where I teach. We’re more prepared with magical supplies there than the basement that sits over a Hellmouth.” John Henry notes, wrinkling his nose in distaste. He holds out his arm for you to take, but Madison grabs you before you can even begin to reach for your uncle. 

“We’ll meet you there, thanks.” She snaps. You nod, letting him know that you’ll be more than okay with Madison. Although he’s obviously displeased, John Henry still bows towards Madison before transmuting away. “Thank the gods, I thought he’d never leave.” 

“Why don’t you like warlocks?” You ask with a smirk. 

“Never have. The majority of them are misogynistic assholes who believe witches are below them, even though a goddess herself gifted them their powers.” She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Biggest mistake I ever made.” 

“Let’s go, before my uncle comes back and you hex him or something.” You grab Madison’s hand, feeling the familiar tugging sensation that comes with transmuting. 

When you both land, you’re standing in the library of the underground school that you’ve only ever seen pictures of before. Madison walks like she owns the place (which she does, if you’re getting technical), and you’re relieved that there’s no other warlocks around to annoy her. You stand still, cracking your knuckles nervously. You don’t know why you’re so nervous; everybody that’s closest to you has absolute faith in you and your magical abilities. But you don’t have that same faith in yourself. John Henry can sense your obvious nerves, and approaches you before taking your hands. 

“My dear, darling niece, there is nothing to be frightened of. The magic that you possess...it’s not once-in-a-lifetime, it’s one of a kind. I was willfully ignorant, in that I chose to ignore your power and not tell your parents. I just didn’t want you to go through the same cruelty that I dealt with from our family growing up. You can do this, (Y/N). I know you can.” You smile, letting yourself be pulled into a hug. 

“Thank you, Uncle John.” 

“It’s time.” Madison interrupts. 

You walk to the table that Madison stands behind, where an unlit candlestick stands. She looks at you, not as a friend, but as your superior. You can see now why so many people are afraid of her, because now you’re a little scared of her, too. 

“The first wonder that we will be attempting today is telekinesis. (Y/N), please move the candlestick.” 

You take a deep breath before staring intently at the object that sits mere feet ahead of you. Suddenly, you hear Michael’s voice in your head, so clear that it sounds like he’s right next to you: “ _ channel that feeling, and use it. _ ” You grin when the candlestick glides into your hand easily, picking it up triumphantly. 

“Good. Now, light it.” This comes just as easily as the telekinesis, and a small flame pops onto the wick. John Henry laughs at your excitement, and even Madison has to fight back a smile. 

“Told you you could do it.” John Henry gloats. “Now calm it down, levitation isn’t one of the Seven Wonders.”

You’re momentarily confused until you notice that the table itself is floating in the air. It drops back down with a crash, and you grimace. 

“Sorry.” You mutter, a little shocked that there’s no holes in the floor. 

“It’s fine, it happens.” Madison smirks, strutting out from behind the table to stand next to John Henry. “Your next Wonder will be concilium.” 

Your smile falters as you recall what concilium is. 

“Mind control? I’ve never even attempted this before.” 

“The core of each Wonder lies in what you were taught for your first two. It’s all about intention. Intend to control one of us.” John Henry instructs. 

You think, trying to decide on something that neither one of them would do. You want to control your uncle, but he seems too obvious a target. Besides, who can say that they controlled the Goddess of Witchcraft herself? You look Madison in her eyes, silently commanding her to do what you want. To your delight, she starts doing jumping jacks, which is exactly what you had wanted her to do. She rolls her eyes and groans, but still can’t stop. 

“Really, (Y/N)? I hate exercising!” She whines. You giggle, John Henry snickering next to her before you break the connection and look away. 

“I’m sorry, I had to do it.” You say innocently. Madison sighs, smoothing out her now-mussed hair and pulling her dress back to where it’s supposed to be. 

“This next task will be the last of the evening,” She gets right down to business, and the serious tone has you dreading what comes next. “Due to the fact that you must complete it before sunrise. Complete it successfully, and we shall take a break before reconvening in the late afternoon. Failure will result in stoppage of the tests and, unfortunately...death.”

“This can’t be the last Wonder?” Your voice shakes with fear.

“This is the order that the Wonders are traditionally performed in. We cannot change them around, I’m sorry.” You nod, clenching your jaw. 

“Alright, then.” Laying down on the floor, you sigh deeply. 

“Do you remember the incantation?” John Henry stares down at you, worry in his eyes. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Once you descend, your time will begin. You have until sunrise.” Madison says in a tone that lets you know she’s not enjoying this anymore than you are. Breathing deeply, you start to recite the incantation you had learned from one of the many books the Underworld’s library offered to you. 

“ _ Spiritu duce, in me est. Deduc me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi. Descensum. _ ” Your eyesight darkens as your soul leaves your physical body and you descend into Hell.

* * *

 

When your eyes open again, you’re in a room that’s starkly white, momentarily confusing you; aren’t you supposed to be unaware of the fact that you’re in Hell? Furthermore, shouldn’t you be living out your worst fears? If you had more time, you would try to figure out why this is so different for you, but you decide to use your soul being in Hell to your advantage. The door opens easily, and you smile at the familiar black hallway that contains the personal Hells of so many. The small light at the end lets you know which way to go, which you do gladly. 

The castle looks just the same as you remember it to be, but you don’t stop to admire the paintings this time. Instead you run towards where you hope Michael will be, almost desperate to find him. If they’re confused or shocked, the guards of the throne room certainly don’t show it. They barely glance your way before opening the doors for you, allowing you to slip in. Sure enough, Michael’s sitting slouched in his throne, a glass of what you’re assuming to be absinthe, due to the green color, in his hand. He looks disheveled, which is entirely unlike him. 

“Michael!” You yell out, making his once-closed eyes open. Although he’s annoyed at first, shock crosses his face when he sees you. 

“I’m finally going crazy.” He mutters, knocking the rest of his drink back before rubbing his eyes. 

“No, it’s me, Michael. I’m here.” You reassure, watching him stumble to his feet before crossing the room to get to you. 

“But how? You...you’ll die down here. You need to go.” He reaches a hand out to touch your face, but it goes right through your form. “You’re not actually here.” 

“I descended.” You say proudly. 

“Like ‘descensum’ descending?” You nod. “Are you taking the test of the Seven Wonders?”

You feel a little bad for Michael, who looks like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown right now. 

“Yes, but there’s a reason behind it! My uncle summoned Madison to help us with these tests because they both believe that, with my combination of light and night magic, I can pass the Seven Wonders and become the ‘Supreme.’ This would allow me to return here long enough to defeat Satan, since there would be a part of me that is powerful. It’d take longer for the Underworld to reach my mortal soul.” Michael’s silent, and you worry that he’s going to be upset with you. Instead, a slow grin starts to spread on his face. 

“You are absolutely incredible, (Y/N). You’ve completed the three Wonders previous to descensum, then?”

“I did!”

“And you descended like it was nothing. Did you even have a hell?”

“No, I was just in a white room. I was fully aware of where I was the whole time, too, which is weird because you told me that people didn’t realize they were in Hell.”

“That’s my girl.” Your heart swells at the endearing compliment he gives you. “I wish I could touch you.” 

“I wish you could too, Michael. I’ll be back though, I promise.” 

“I know you will. Even if the last time we get to see each other is when we’re fighting my father, at least we’ll get to be together.” He smiles sadly, his hand twitching as his body goes to touch you before his mind can remind him that it’s just your soul that’s here. “You should probably be returning to your body now. You know how time passes differently.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” You sigh, frowning at his reminder. 

“Remember what you said, though. You’ll be back.” Michael steps back, taking one last look at you before nodding. “It’s time to go now, (Y/N). I’ll see you soon.” 

“See you soon.” You think about returning to your body, your vision slowly disappearing like it did when you were descending down to the Underworld.

* * *

 

You sit up with a loud gasp, clutching at your chest while you try to get some air. Madison and John Henry both look up from where they’re sitting, both rushing towards you now that you’re back in your body. 

“You did it. I knew you could do it.” John Henry pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. 

“What was your hell like?” Madison asks. By her expression change, she definitely wasn’t expecting you to smile upon recalling it. 

“I didn’t have one. I woke up in a white room and knew where I was the whole time. I decided to leave and I found Michael.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, he...he told me how much he misses me, and that he knows I’m going to pass the rest of the tests.”

“You’re amazing.” 

Although Madison said that you would be extremely drained after returning to your physical body, you feel more invigorated than ever. You want to test the rest of the Wonders out, but neither her nor John Henry will allow you too. Instead, you find yourself in one of the spare bedrooms, trying to sleep in order to please the two who are overseeing your tests. Sleep eludes you, though, and you don’t mind one bit. Sleeplessness is a million times better than sleeping if it means you can relive your recent encounter with Michael over and over again. 


	14. The Fear of Losing This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second, and final, part of your test of the Seven Wonders commences. Of course, nothing can just go smoothly for you.

There’s truly nothing like successfully descending to Hell and back to boost your ego. You only manage to get a couple of hours of sleep before the excitement of knocking out the rest of the Wonders forces you up. Madison’s obviously not pleased to see you out so soon after she sent you to rest, but you’ve assured her that you’re fine and more than ready to get this over with. Surprisingly, it’s your uncle that is the last to enter the large library. He’s dressed impeccably, wearing an ascot fastened with a brooch like he’s going to a fancy dinner instead of administering a test. The dark eyeliner that he’s so fond of lines his eyes, making the already-startling color pop more. 

“Warlocks always take so long to get ready.” Madison scoffs, rolling her eyes while appraising John Henry’s outfit. “At least you clean up well, unlike some of the others I know.”

John looks extremely shocked, and you’re sure that you look the same. Madison actually complimenting one of the dreaded warlocks? Surely this must be the first sign that the apocalypse is here. 

“Maybe I can give you some tips, my Lady.” John mocks, smirking while Madison glares at him. 

“I have thousands of years worth of fashion under my designer belt but thanks.” She snips, hands on her hips to prove her assertiveness. “(Y/N), let’s start the final three tests now that we’re all here.”

“What’s the first test?”

“Transmutation.” Your lips twitch at the first image that pops into your mind. 

“Transforming into a mutant? I thought I was doing witchcraft, not joining the X-Men.” You can’t help but to laugh at your own joke, the hilarity only increased by the exasperated look on Madison’s face.

“I don’t know what an ‘X-Men’ is, and I don’t really care to find out. Think of transmutation like teleporting.” Madison directs you to stand over by the wall as she and John Henry converse quietly. 

Your uncle holds his hands up, conjuring two items in thin air: a knife and a brick. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look between the two to see if you can discern what each weapon is going to be used for. They both stare back at you stoically, and you rub your palms against your jeans when you realize that they’re suddenly sweaty with nerves. 

“Um, what are those for?” You ask. 

“Motivation.” John Henry responds. 

Before you can further question him, he flings his hand towards you, the brick flying in your direction. Your eyes widen and you let out a squeak of fear. Apparently practice does help to hone skills, since you barely have to think about the spot on top of the staircase before you feel a tugging sensation right above your navel. You land at your designated spot, knees buckling slightly from the impact. The brick smashes into the space against the wall that your head occupied mere milliseconds before. You smile widely when they turn to look at you, but your sassy sentence dies in your mouth when John repeats the action with his other hand. 

A knife is a lot more deadly than a brick, and the deadly precision with which John throws it makes it impossible for you to slip up. It’s also flying towards you much quicker than the previous object, giving you absolutely no time to actually think about where you want to go. All you think is that you want across the room, disappearing right as the point of the knife is an inch away from your chest. This time, you reappear behind both Madison and John. Tapping their shoulders, you jokingly pout when they turn around. 

“Uncle, I thought you loved me! How could you attempt to kill me?” You say dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. 

“I assure you, I only threw those at you because I knew that you were more than capable of dodging them.”

“Are you ready for the next Wonder, (Y/N). I can always throw some fire at you if you want to really make sure that you have transmutation down.” Madison says.

“Madison, was that a  _ joke _ ?” Madison’s M.O. has always been sarcasm, not straight-up jokes. 

“You tell anybody about this and I will throw fire at you.” She threatens, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that lets you know she’s only kidding. “Your second-to-last task will be divination, which is using your supernatural abilities to obtain knowledge of any kind.”

“There are multiple ways to divine knowledge, but we figured that scrying would be the best option.” John Henry steps in. 

“What’s scrying?” You ask. 

“Scrying is using a reflective surface to gain the desired knowledge. For this exercise, we’ll just be using the mirror.” He gestures towards the floor-length mirror that stands in the corner, ornate gold carvings surrounding the surface. “Hecate, if you would be so kind as to tell (Y/N) the item that she will be finding today.” 

“Do you remember the silver flowers you wore in your hair the night of the Underworld’s ball?” She waits for you to nod before continuing. “I’ve hidden those somewhere in this building. Using the mirror, I’d like you to tell me the exact location of these flowers.” 

You step in front of the mirror, Madison and John Henry moving to the sides so as not to impede your vision. Taking a deep breath to clear your mind, you imagine the flowers that adorned your hair what feels like a lifetime ago. How dainty they are, the cool silver as you brushed a hand through your hair, how carefully Desa threaded them in for you. Then, you let the tendrils of your magic reach through the mirror. You stare intensely through the surface, watching as it wavers like a lake when a rock gets tossed through the water. Instead of the hiding spot of the flowers, though, the mirror darkens along with the edges of your vision. It feels like your eyes are being drawn into the scene even though you’re not moving at all. All you can see is what’s slowly being revealed in front of you. 

A blood-red sky hangs above the scene, smoke rising from the ground and blurring everything that you can see. Your heart pounds when the smoke clears enough for you to see the same throne made of bones that terrorized your last nightmare in the Underworld. Ravens continue to circle above it, calling to each other in a language you can’t understand. You’re not really sure you want to understand it, not with the way these birds are glaring at everything that moves. Even worse, the cracked white face and coal-black eyes that make up Michael’s demonic alter ego are prevalent as he lounges on the throne, looking entirely uninterested at what’s going on around him. 

It’s like you’re watching a TV show, but you’re the main character. Another you is forced to your knees on the cracked marble floor, the throne rising up ahead. Red blooms on the white fabric that covers your abdomen, the spot growing larger with every passing second. When you cough, blood spills out of your mouth and dribbles down your chin. Satan stands proudly behind Michael’s throne, pulling himself to his full height since there’s no roof to stop him. 

“Do it.” Satan growls. His voice reverberates throughout the room, almost like there’s speakers hanging in multiple spots on the walls. 

“Michael, please don’t.” The other you pleads, hands pressing against the wound in order to try and stop the bleeding. 

“This is your destiny, my son. Kill the girl.” Michael stares at you for a long moment, but the look in his eyes is impossible to figure out with the lack of color.

Invisible demons are chattering from all around you, yelling and snarling in what you think is Latin. The noises reach a crescendo when Michael stands, producing a blade from inside his cloak. The you on the ground shakes the closer he gets, tears welling up in your eyes from fright. His hand tangles in your hair, and you let out a yell when he yanks you up towards him. Smirking, he curls his lip in disgust when you start audibly crying. 

“P-please Michael.” You whimper, gripping his arm tightly. “I love you.” 

Michael’s silent for a long moment, and you almost start to think you’ve gotten through to him. His fingers twirl the knife around, a telltale sign that he’s thinking about something. His smirk, however, widens into a feral grin.

“What a pity.” He tuts. 

With one swift motion, he turns you so that your back is against your chest. It’s a presentation, you realize, a way to show his father that he’s fulfilling these ‘grand’ plans.

“Don’t do this!” You cry. 

“Power in your name, Father, and may you rise from the void!” With that, Michael takes the knife and slices your neck open. 

A single, wet gasp escapes your mouth as blood gushes out of the cut. Your heart tries to send more blood to the wound in an attempt to clot it, but that only makes you lose blood faster. It coats the front of the once-white sundress that you were wearing, and you’re horrified to watch yourself die. 

“Ave Satanas!” Michael calls out as lightning flashes across the sky and thunder booms. Once he’s sure that you’re completely dead, he tosses your body to the ground like a discarded napkin. 

You’re pulled back abruptly, the suddenness of the bright lights making you squint your eyes in pain. There’s a high-pitched screaming echoing through the room, and it takes you a moment to realize that it’s yours. The arms wrapped around you pull you to the ground, holding you tightly in an attempt to sedate you. 

“(Y/N)! What happened?” A low voice, that you recognize as John Henry’s, says in your ear. 

“Holy shit, you’re bleeding out of your eyes.” Madison notes from where she’s crouched in front of you. When you glance at yourself in the mirror, you see that she’s right. Red streaks down your face, coating your eyelashing in a thick mascara of blood. 

“I...it was like that nightmare that I had in the Underworld, the one where Michael was sitting on a throne of bones and eating my heart while Satan stood behind him? Only this time, I watched him kill me. He slit my throat.”

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up.” Madison looks at John, who stands and leaves the room to presumably grab a cloth. 

“Why did that happen?” You stare at Madison with wide eyes. How did a simple task spiral into something like this?

“Some people, when attempting scrying, have...I don’t want to say visions, because what you saw is not going to happen. They can see possible futures.” Madison explains gently, taking the wet cloth from John and muttering her thanks.

“So I saw the future?”  _ Holy shit, maybe I am an X-Man,  _ you think to yourself. 

“A possible future. There’s a million different things that factor into the probability of a future, creating an endless amount of futures. This doesn’t mean that Michael is going to kill you and start the end of the world, but it’s always been a possibility.” She takes great care in not hurting you when she wipes the blood off of your face, especially when she gets close to your eyes. 

“Michael wouldn’t kill me though, right? Even...even if his father corrupted him?” 

“Michael wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did. Satan would literally have to possess him and carry it out through him in order for Michael to even think about that.” The vision that is still seared into your head is pretty jarring, but the knowledge that Michael was overjoyed to see you just hours ago reassures you that Madison’s right. 

“I don’t want to try divination again. I’d rather fail the Seven Wonders than have to look in that mirror for information.” 

“You passed.” 

“What?” You and John Henry both say at the same time, looking up at Madison in confusion. 

“Divination is divining knowledge through supernatural means. You had a vision about the end of the world through looking into a mirror, thus divining the knowledge.”

“Well, definitely never going to use a mirror again if I have to divine something.” You say after a long pause. Madison and John both laugh at your response. 

“That’s perfectly okay. Never has any magical being gotten visions from looking at rocks to find knowledge.” John explains.

“If I have it my way, I won’t be doing  _ any _ divining.” You joke, hugging your knees to your chest. Madison waves her hand, making the now-bloody cloth disappear. 

“(Y/N), I know that this was very traumatic for you, so if you would like to suspend testing to rest, we can. But, you do only have one more Wonder to complete.” Madison stands, pulling you to your feet as well. 

“What’s the last one?” You ask. 

“Vitalum Vitalus.” 

“The gift of resurgence.” John Henry fills in when he notices your confusion. “This Wonder involves perfectly balancing the scales between life and death to bring something back to life.”

“Not even Michael can successfully complete this. Seeing as how the prophecy stated that you will be the bridge between the living and the dead, I believe that this will be your most powerful gift.” Madison says. 

“Oh God, please don’t do anything fucked up like kill my uncle and make me bring him back.” You roll your eyes.

“Now where would you ever get an idea like that?”

“Hmm, maybe from the fact that you’d love nothing more than to kill a warlock.” You chuckle when Madison smirks, acknowledging defeat. 

“Well, we’ll have to find something here that’s dead.” 

“It’s a school for warlocks, we keep animals here specifically for this reason.” John Henry interjects, huffing at Madison’s antics before walking out of the room. 

You’re anxious, wanting to get this last test over with so you can either reunite with Michael in the Underworld or go back to your home and cry about everything you’ve lost. Sure, you may still have magic, but what use are these gifts if you can’t use them to help save the world? It doesn’t take long for John to return to the room, but by then you’re already up and pacing. He sets the shoebox in his hands down on the table, beckoning you towards him. When you peek into the box, you can’t help but to gasp. 

A small rabbit lies dead, nestled on a bed of tissue paper. When you tentatively reach out to touch it, you can feel that it’s still warm. 

“Did you kill it?” You ask, an image flashing through your mind of your uncle strangling the helpless creature. John blanches at your expression, awkwardly clearing his throat and avoiding eye contact. 

“Bring it back to life.”

Cupping your hands under the rabbit’s body, you shudder as you lift it out of the box. Its body is limp, rigor mortis not yet setting in. Closing your eyes, you focus on the warmth you still feel emanating from the corpse. You imagine the rabbit hopping around, twitching its little nose and suckling from a water bottle in the cute way that all rabbits do. You’re not sure how you know what to do, but something from deep inside you tells you to take a deep breath in before letting it out slowly. 

Nothing happens at first. You keep your eyes closed, still focusing on sheer will to bring the rabbit back to life. When you feel the shifting of fur in your palms, you finally open your eyes. The rabbit’s still laying still in your hands, and it takes a moment for you to notice the faint movement as it breathes. Your face lights up when its ears twitch, and you let out a disbelieving laugh when it sits up and stares at you. You don’t know how to react to this situation, so you gently place the rabbit back in the box before looking up at the two who have proctored your tests.

John Henry’s in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Madison just looks extremely pleased, ‘I told you so’ written all over her face. You’re kind of in disbelief yourself, at the moment. Honestly, for everything that completing the Seven Wonders was hyped up to be, it’s more than a little underwhelming now that you’ve actually completed them. You were expecting fireworks to go off and for your hands to start glowing. Nothing’s changed, you don’t feel any different, yet the mere knowledge that you hold this amount of magical abilities somehow changes everything. 


	15. Drunk in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that you’ve passed the Seven Wonders, there’s only one thing on your mind: Reuiniting with Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two words, y’all: REUNION. SMUT. Let’s do this.

In movies, there’s a certain trope that’s so often utilized in the wrong way that it’s become a cliche. The scene usually starts with a big event occurring; it doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, just so long as it changes the plot in some way. Everything suddenly happens in slow motion, and the dialogue is silenced while some dramatic music plays in the background. Then, when the music reaches its crescendo, the scene snaps back to a normal speed and the characters voices are heard again while they figure out how they’re going to finish whatever the plot is now that this event has affected everything. It’s truly one of the modern cop-outs of the film industry, yet it’s one that easily gets the plot from Point A to Point B. 

Thankfully, this isn’t some low budget film with B-list actors; it’s your life. Madison barely gives you a moment to wonder what the hell just happened before she’s grabbing you by the shoulders and nearly shaking you. 

“I  _ told _ you so!” She declares, grinning widely. 

“So...what do I do now?” You should be more excited about this, now that you’ve mastered the seven most difficult abilities that any witch, warlock, god, goddess, or prophesied  (Y/N) can possess, but your reaction to life-changing events is apparently apathy. 

“Uhhh do I need to spell it out for you? Go and reunite with Michael!!” Over the course of the tests, it must have slipped your mind that the end result of all of this (besides a boss battle with Satan) is getting to see Michael again. Your eyes widen, and Madison and John Henry both stifle their laughs. 

“Should I just, like, go?” You’ve never been in a situation like this before and, admittedly, you’re not handling things as expected. 

“ _ Yes! _ ” They both exclaim at the same time. 

“You know where the Hellmouth is, go and use it!” Madison reminds you. 

“Are you not coming back with me?” You ask as a smirk plays on her lips. 

“The way I see it, your reunion with Michael will go one of two possible ways: you’re either going to fight or fuc-”

“Don’t need to hear the end of that!” John Henry interrupts, placing his hand on your cheek. “My darling niece, there is  _ nothing _ that I wouldn’t do for you. Go now, okay? You can tell me all about the Underworld after you save the world.” 

“Thank you, Uncle. For everything.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all love the tearful family hugs.  _ Go _ , I promise you that John and I will hear all about it when you come back.” Madison speaks up from behind you. “And, (Y/N)?” She grabs your arm as you step away from John Henry. 

“Yeah?” 

“Have fun. Zoe’s been given strict instructions to clear the castle.” 

“ _ Madison _ !” You admonish the woman, who only chuckles at your embarrassment. 

“Bye, (Y/N)!” She dismisses you with a wave of her hand, letting you know that you better get moving before she tosses you down the Hellmouth herself. Focusing, you envision the basement of the Murder House before feeling yourself getting transported through the very fabric of time. 

The door to the Hellmouth is already open, the smell of brimstone and heat from the fire welcoming you home again. This encounter with the portal to the Underworld is much more pleasant than the last one as you willingly step closer to the edge of the gaping hole. Smiling, you turn with your back facing the hole before holding your arms out at your sides, closing your eyes, and letting yourself fall backwards. 

Magic (or experience) has made you more graceful, you note when you land on your feet in the grand entryway of the Underworld’s palace. Your eyes immediately scan the room for Michael, but you’re not that surprised that he’s not out here; you hadn’t expected the God of the Dead to be eagerly waiting for you when he has other duties to attend to. The demons and other creatures tasked with keeping order in the palace hardly even jump when you appear, looking passively at you before going back to what they were previously doing. The tables, however, are turned when a high-pitched shriek pierces the air and makes you jump. 

“Lady (Y/N), you have returned!” Turning around, you grin when you’re face-to-face with Desa. 

“You’ve forgotten how to address me already?” You joke, letting the small woman pull you into a hug. 

“You will have to forgive me.” She apologizes, but the smirk on her face lets you know that she was just teasing you. “I thought that you would die if you came back again?”

“Let’s just say I found a loophole.” Desa thinks for a moment before her eyes widen. 

“The tests that Lady Hecate was talking to Lord Hades about?” 

“I passed all of them. It isn’t a permanent fix, and something will have to be done in order to ensure I can be here for extended amounts of time, but it’s enough for me to see Michael again and help defeat his father.” Desa beams, hands sliding down to yours and gripping them tightly. 

“While I would love to talk more with you, I believe that Lord Hades will be particularly elated to find that you are back.”

“Where is he?” Your eyes light up at the mere mention of his name. 

“His private study.” Your legs start to move before your mind can even think about doing so, taking you in the direction that you need to be. “If you need anything, you know how to summon me!” Desa calls before disappearing. 

The halls are busy, as always, but the buzz of daily life in the Underworld fades into the background with every step towards Michael’s office that you take. You’re not quite sure why you’re nervous: this ‘relationship,’ or whatever it’s called, is unlike any other you’ve ever had. Fortunately, this means that Michael makes it clear what his intentions are for every area of his life, not leaving you guessing like the mortal boys you’ve dated before. Still, you can’t help the knot that continues to coil itself tighter in your stomach, especially once the large oak door to his private quarters is right in front of you. It’s cracked open, so you sneak in and find yourself facing the study door. 

“It’s now or never.” You mutter before taking a deep breath and knocking twice. 

“ _ I thought I had made it clear that I was not to be disturbed. _ ” Your heart flutters upon hearing Michael’s annoyed voice through the door, barely letting him finish his sentence before knocking again. 

It’s silent for a long moment, and you can practically see Michael, sitting hunched over the desk and clenching his jaw as he tries to figure out who has the insolence to continue to interrupt him. You should give up the charade and tell him that it’s you, but you’re having far too much fun annoying him. Smirking, you knock on the door one last time.

“ _ What _ ?” The door swings open with all the force Michael can muster without ripping the door off of its hinges, and you grin widely at him. 

“I really thought that you would be happier to see me than this.” You tease, relishing in how you render him speechless and the way that his jaw drops.

There really is no word to properly describe the beauty that Michael possesses. His chilling blue eyes, which can delve right into a person’s soul with a mere glance, are highlighted artfully by his signature red eyeshadow. You’re not sure what could cut a person easier: his cheekbones or his jawline. Both are sharp and defining, and your fingers twitch as you feel the need to brush your skin against the bone. You’re delighted to see that he’s kept his hair long and shoulder-length, the strawberry-blond waves framing his face. Even when his face is contorted into an expression of shock, he still looks downright angelic. 

“Are you really here?” He asks quietly, voice shaking as though he fears you may evaporate if he speaks too loudly. 

“I am.” You speak in a whisper too, reaching down and slowly intertwining your fingers with his. Michael shudders at the contact, his other hand reaching up to tentatively touch your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into his touch, shoulders immediately relaxing as the tension leaves your body. 

“You’re here.” Michael reasserts, moving his thumb in circles against the smooth skin of your face while he makes sure that this is all real. “You passed the Seven Wonders?” 

“With only minor difficulties.” 

“I--” Michael stops himself, shaking his head and chuckling. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. Yet, somehow I didn’t think that this would actually happen. After the way that you had to leave the Underworld, it just seemed impossible that you would be able to return.” 

“Well, I’ve returned.” You shrug, hesitating slightly. “I hope that’s okay?”

“You ‘hope that’s okay.’” Michael laughs, the noise sending your heart soaring. “(Y/N), it’s so beyond okay that I don’t have words for how amazing this is. The last time I actually saw you, you were on the brink of death. And now you’re here, and healthy...you came back?”

“I told you I would. We’ve got a job to do.”

“But...you came back  _ willingly _ .” Michael’s eyes get misty, and you realize why it is that he’s so choked up. At first, it was your singular mission to ‘escape’ the Underworld and return back to your life up Above. Even if you hadn’t almost died, Michael most likely thought that you would still leave him and never return, as if the moments you shared with him meant nothing to you. 

“Michael, I’m always going to come back to you. We’re in this together now, whatever ‘this’ is.” 

In the past, it’s been Michael that takes the lead in every remotely romantic situation that you’ve been in with him, but you decide to take control today. Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around his neck before pulling his lips against yours. He’s stunned for a mere moment before reciprocating the kiss, weaving a hand through your hair and working his lips on yours like an actor reciting a well-practiced monologue. It’s slow and sweet, and you aren’t at all upset when he takes control by slipping his tongue in your mouth. This spell that you’re both in is suddenly broken when Michael accidentally slams your body against a bookcase instead of the wall. Your eyes snap open and you let out a yell of surprise as books go toppling off of the shelf around you. 

Michael’s eyes meet yours when you break away from each other, both of you staring at each other with wide eyes. He looks frightened about what your reaction to this will be, despite the fact that you initiated the kiss. When you start to giggle, a slow smile spreads across his face. You lean your forehead against his, savoring the sound of Michael’s own laughs. 

“I meant what I said, you know.” Michael speaks in almost a whisper, his blue eyes captivating you as you lean in closer to hear him. 

“About what?”

“Do you remember what I said to you before Madison had to take you back up Above?” After a moment, you shake your head. 

“Not really. I don’t remember much from that time.” 

“You taught me how to love, (Y/N). I did not think love existed before you, that it was just a farce that others participated in so that they could feel some semblance of happiness. It’s not, though. I know that now, because now I have you. Thousands of years I’ve lived, and I’ve never found anyone like you. I’m not asking for you to say the same things, or even for you to reciprocate my feelings. I just want you to know that I love you. You are it for me; there’s no one else that would ever have my heart the way that you will always have mine.” 

Although shocking to hear Michael say this, it’s not surprising; on some deep level, you’ve always known that he feels this way, but to hear the words out loud is a whole different thing. Words hold a certain power once they’ve been said, when they’re out in the air and there’s no taking back what you’ve said. There’s no going back anymore, no claiming it as a mistake and brushing it under the rug. It’s permanent, and Michael knows that just as much as you do. 

Michael can see the back-and-forth in your mind, and silences it all by kissing you again. His hand snakes down to your hip and wraps around your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist. When his other hand repeats the same actions, you get what he’s trying to do and jump into his arms. His hands cup your ass, fingers digging into the skin through your jeans. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” Michael breaks apart from you, catching a breath as he walks with you towards his bedroom. 

“I want you so badly, Michael.” You breathe out, running a hand through his tousled blond hair. 

He lays you down on those red silk sheets that you noticed the first time he let you into his private quarters, and you stare up at him with wide eyes while he hurriedly removes his black button-down shirt from his body. Michael smirks at your expression, and you scoot back against the pillows as he crawls towards you.

“If you keep biting your lip like that, there is no way that I’ll be able to control myself.” Your lip, which you didn’t even realize you had been biting, is quickly released from in between your teeth. “You’re wearing far too many clothes, darling mine.”

“Guess you’ll have to help me take them off, then.” Michael groans when you cock an eyebrow towards him, surging forward to kiss you.

Your hands hook into the waistband of his pants, desperate to pull him closer to you. You whimper when he pulls away from you, but it’s only a moment so that he can pull your own shirt over your head. Michael slowly pushes you down on your back before sitting back on his heels and staring at you. 

“What?” You ask, suddenly self-conscious at being so vulnerable in front of an actual god. 

“You’re so stunning, (Y/N). Aphrodite herself surely had a hand in your creation; there’s no way she herself didn’t bless you with the gift of such beauty.” You blush deeply, the color extending all the way down your chest. 

“ _ Michael _ .” You roll your eyes, but can’t stop the smile on your face. 

“I’m just telling you the truth.” He strokes your hair that’s fanned out like a halo against the pillows, reaching behind you to unclip your bra easily. 

You shudder at the sudden cold against your breasts, your nipples pebbling at the temperature change. Michael kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin and making you jump slightly. You nearly yell when his mouth suddenly attaches to one of your nipples, lightly biting and lavishing one while his hand tweaks the other. You can already feel how soaked your panties are, your cunt nearly throbbing with want. Impatiently, you thread your hands through his hair and tug him up off of your breasts, grabbing one of his hands and moving it right on top of your clothed center. 

“You dirty, needy little girl.” Michael’s eyes are dark with lust as you nod, fumbling with the buckle on his belt as you attempt to work his pants down his legs. 

He easily kicks them off past his ankles, the fabric falling to the floor in a heap. Michael nearly drags you down the bed while he yanks your own jeans and underwear off, huffing when he finally removes the tight fabric from your legs. Your eyes widen in both anticipation and fear when Michael’s cock is finally freed from the confines of his underwear. You knew he would be big, considering he’s an actual god, but the sheer girth of his cock, at least as thick as your wrist, makes you nervous that he may actually split you in two. The tip is already flushed bright red and beading precum, and your hand twitches at the desire to stroke it. He can sense your nervousness, chuckling before leaning in to give you a reassuring kiss. 

“I promise that I’ll take this as slow as you need me to do so.” You can feel Michael’s bicep flex under your hand as he strokes himself a couple of times, preparing himself to enter your already-wet core. 

“Fuck!” You say, stopping him before he can even start to thrust into you. 

“What?”

“Do you have, like, a condom?” Michael laughs loudly, shaking his head. 

“(Y/N), I’m a god. You’re not going to get pregnant unless I  _ want  _ you to get pregnant.” 

“You better not be lying.” You tease, letting him kiss you again. 

“I would never do such a thing to you. Ready?” You nod, trying to relax as much as possible so that this hurts less. 

He thrusts in slowly, trying to go inch by inch to minimize any pain that you may be feeling. You clench your eyes shut, humming loudly to distract from the burn as Michael sheaths himself inside you. You gasp when he bottoms out inside you, the head already brushing against the sponginess of your innermost walls. Michael rubs calming circles on your shoulder, kissing you to keep you distracted. When he leans back and accidentally rocks against you, you whine at the jolt of pleasure that courses through you. 

“Move, Michael, please.” You gasp out, head falling back and exposing your neck to him.

Michael rocks back, nearly pulling all the way out of you before thrusting back in deeply. Your moans and groans mix together as he starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you, one that’s slow enough to feel intimate, but rough enough to have your nails scratching down his back. You hold him close to you, listening to the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin. Choking back a sob, your attempts at silence prove futile when Michael’s hips snap against yours just right, pelvis brushing against your clit and making you scream loudly. 

“You are  _ so  _ tight, (Y/N). Tightest I’ve ever had.” Michael grunts through clenched teeth, sweat beading on his brow as he tries to not come already. 

You let out a loud whine, tears starting to cloud your vision when he bites down on the juncture of your neck and your collarbone, licking a hot stripe up to below your ear. 

“ _ Michael _ !” Your stomach flips when he continually hits your g-spot. “Oh God, yes!”

“Mmm, who’s your God, darling?” He nearly growls, thrusts becoming rougher at your keens. 

“You are! Michael, you’re my God!” You almost cry at how good it feels when his hand makes contact with your clit, rubbing harsh circles against it.

Michael wraps your legs around his waist, the new angle sending stars streaking across your vision while a high-pitched scream rips through your chest. He can tell that you’re dangerously close to cumming, the near constant clenching of your pussy around his cock driving him wild. Pressing his lips to yours, he swallows the scream-like moan that you release when he pinches your clit, sending you straight into your orgasm. 

You convulse violently under him, eyes rolling back into your head as the pleasure courses through your body. Through the pleasure clouding every sense of yours, you hear Michael groan deeply while he buries himself against you and releases, coating your walls with his hot cum. Michael collapses on top of you once you’re both finished, both of you breathing heavily as you try to regain any control over your bodies. He finally rolls off of you, and you hiss at the loss of contact. Michael falls next to you, chest heaving while he pulls you against him. 

“I love you.” You whisper quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped the room. 

“Huh?” 

“I love you.” You look up at Michael from where your head is resting on your chest. “I don’t know if it took me almost dying, or the sheer ridiculousness of passing the Seven Wonders, or just reuniting with you, but I do love you. So, so much, Michael.”

A smile bursts across Michael’s face, the radiance of it making your heart swell. He kisses your forehead sweetly, intertwining his fingers with yours and sighing happily.

“Sleep now, my love. Everything will remain the same when you wake.” He reassures, watching the drooping of your eyes as you slowly drift off to sleep, finally at peace. 


	16. Get You the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A plan? I don't even have a 'pla-.'" Although wise words from the iconic Phoebe Bufffay, they're not words that you will be repeating, thanks to the scheme that you and the Council of the Underworld hatch.

Michael’s gone by the time that you wake up, and you’re mildly impressed at how skilled he is at disentangling himself from your mess of limbs without managing to wake you up. You sit up in the large bed, eyes scanning across the room and cataloguing the mess that you left last night. The clothes strewn across the floor are reduced to nothing more than ripped pieces of fabric, and you cringe at the prevalent smell of sex that still wafts through the air. Falling back against the pillows, you notice a note sitting on Michael’s pillow and grab it. It’s written on actual parchment and with a quill and ink, as if he would ever write on a lowly sheet of notebook paper with a regular pen.

_ My dearest (Y/N), _

_ How difficult it was to leave your side this morning. I could not possibly bare to wake you when you were so peacefully sleeping, and could have stayed in bed with you for an eternity, but alas, the Underworld cannot run itself. When you do wake, Desa has placed some of your belongings in the wardrobe. I, along with my council, will be in the library for the entirety of the day as we attempt to form a plan on how to defeat Satan. Please join us when you are dressed and ready. I eagerly await getting to see your angelic smile again, and will not feel whole until you are once again in my arms.  _

_ Eternally yours, _

_ Michael _

Clutching the letter tightly in your hands, you try desperately to calm your racing heart as your cheeks burn pink. Your finger traces the smooth cursive handwriting while you imagine Michael sitting at his desk and crafting such poetry. “You smooth bastard,” you mutter, throwing the covers off of your body and stepping onto the cool floor. 

Whether Desa has finally given into your stubborn fashion choices or if she is just so happy to have you back that this is her gift to you, it’s a welcome surprise to see comfortable pants and shirts hanging snugly alongside Michael’s fine suits and cloaks. You take a quick shower, working the tangles out of your hair before slipping into your clothes and grabbing the pair of tennis shoes that you arrived here in. 

You hadn’t realized how familiar the daily routine of the Underworld had become to you until you were ripped away from it, and it’s nice to be back in the midst of that familiarity. Taking a slight detour through the kitchens, you snag some sort of muffin from a tray and sneak back out, knowing how upset the Eidolon would get if something was out of order in their neatly-organized lives. That’s made nearly impossible, though, when all of spirits are immediately attracted to your aura. If everyone had thought that your ‘lily-white’ aura was strong before, it must be radiant by now. Their eyes, sunken into their sockets, are glued to you from the moment that you enter the kitchens, to the second that the door closes behind you. 

Your feet skitter to a stop along the carpeted hallway when a red rubber ball rolls past you. Stopping it with your foot, you pick it up with a grin. There’s only one group that this ball could belong to, and the small chorus of giggles confirms your suspicions. A translucent little girl with tight braids and a gap between her teeth who floats above the ground, another girl with deep red eyes and tiny horns poking out of the snakes that make up her hair, and a boy who looks completely human come rounding the corner and screech to a stop in front of you. 

“Princess!” Samael, the small demon boy, exclaims. You crouch down, extending the hand that holds the ball towards him. 

“I believe this belongs to you three?” The small ghost known as Desdemona snatches the ball from your hand, rolling it between her hands while she attempts to stifle a giggle. 

“Princess, we thought you weren’t able to come back.” You ignore the part where Desdemona calls you ‘princess,’ indulging the children in their fantasies. 

“Hmm, everyone has a bit of magic to help them, don’t they?” 

“You used  _ magic  _ to get back here?” Euryale asks. 

“Something like that.” 

“Can you play with us, Princess?” Desdemona changes the subject, obviously not pleased with such ‘boring’ subjects.

“I wish I could, but I’m actually on my way to meet King Hades.” The three gasp, all grinning widely. 

“Are you two in love?” “Will you get married?” “Can we come?” “Are you gonna be the queen?” The three start shooting questions your way, all jumbling together in a cacophony of high-pitched, childlike glee. 

“You know, I can’t understand you when you’re all speaking at the same time,” you tease, the three groaning as you stand. “I’ll see you guys later, okay? Stay out of trouble.” 

“Will you play with us later, Princess?” Euryale asks. 

“Of course. I can’t let you guys beat me at hide-and-go-seek  _ again _ .” 

“Goodbye, Princess!” The three chorus, waving at you as you turn and walk away.

The library door looms at the end of the hallway, but your pace slows down the closer that you get as you think. The questions that Euryale, Samael, and Desdemona threw at you all blended together as each child competed to be the loudest, but one manages to stick with you: “Are you gonna be the queen?” 

_ Are you  _ going to be the queen?

Your mind flashes back to the day that your health went downhill. Before you had been placed on bedrest, before you had even passed out at the foot of Michael’s throne. The day of your first judgment session, Michael had made a joke when you asked if there was somewhere for you to sit: 

_ “Once you agree to take your place as my queen, then you can have a throne of your own.” _

Was becoming queen the official moment that you take your place as co-ruler of the Underworld? Is it only upon the placing of a crown on your head that the prophecy is fulfilled? You chew on your bottom lip, introspective. For once, though, it’s not the idea of becoming a queen that has your mind whirring. Instead, you find yourself thinking of Satan and, more specifically, his plans. 

From what you can recall, the reason that Michael is unable to leave the Underworld is because Satan hasn’t been able to be located. If Michael leaves, Satan would take the throne, both literally and figuratively. However, the wrench in all of this being’s plans is you. You’re what would prevent the apocalypse from happening; the moment you accept your position is the moment that the crisis of the end of the world is averted. Satan is determined to either kill you himself or somehow prevent you from taking your own throne. Surely he knows that you’re back in the Underworld, a creature like himself should easily be able to sense such things. Slowly, yet surely, an idea starts to form.

“Michael?” You call out, pleased at how you can use your telekinesis to open the heavy door just like everyone else does. The four members of Michael’s council, Michael included, stand upon your entrance. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“It’s no worry,” a very large man, at least seven feet tall, with gaping sockets where his eyes should be makes his way over to you and takes your hand. “I am Thanatos. It’s a pleasure to meet you under better circumstances than last, Lady (Y/N).” 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” you allow him to lead you towards the table, pulling out a seat for you next to Michael. He’s beaming at you, not bothering to hide his feelings around Zoe, Madison, and Thanatos, his closest friends. 

“I trust you slept well, my love?” Michael inquires, sliding his hand into yours under the table. 

“I did, thank you.” Madison and Zoe smirk at each other, the identical blushes on yours and Michael’s cheeks making it clear what happened last night.

“So, (Y/N), what was it that made your tone sound so urgent when you first came through the doors?” Zoe, taking pity on you, changes the subject.

“Oh! I think I may have a plan to defeat Satan.” Everything, even the fire itself, seems to fall silent at your statement. Three sets of eyes and one set of empty eye sockets stare at you, all looking shocked. 

“Did I hear you right? You have been back for not even a full day, and you already have a plan?” Madison asks incredulously. 

“I said that I ‘may’ have a plan. I’m honestly not sure if it’s going to sound stupid or not.”

“Well, tell us your plan, then.”

“As far as I’m aware, you haven’t been able to locate him yet. Is that correct?” You look to Michael, who nods, before continuing. “He obviously wants to either kill me or prevent me from taking the throne with Michael, that way he can take the throne himself. What if, in order to lure him here, we fake a coronation? Once we have him here, then we can defeat him.” 

The council members are all quiet, thinking over what you’ve said. Michael absentmindedly rubs circles on your hand with his thumb, and you anxiously study his face while you wait for someone to speak. 

“What if it doesn’t work?” Zoe questions, removing her thumbnail from her mouth long enough to speak. 

“Satan, for all of his powers and strengths, is extremely impulsive. It’s always been his biggest flaw. If he knows that (Y/N) is here, and that we will be ‘crowning’ her, he will act on his first impulse, which will be to strike.” Michael has the gift to make everybody hold their breath as he speaks, words coming out of his mouth like they were composed by the world’s finest composers. 

“I’m not worried about getting him here. It’s what happens once he’s here that worries me.” 

“Would the other Olympians be able to come and help?” You ask, wrinkling your nose when they all chuckle. 

“We didn’t mean to offend you, (Y/N), but the Olympians refuse to come down here unless they’re forced to do so. The ball that you attended is the only regular event that they attend,” Madison says. 

“Screw them, then! We don’t need them. You guys are all gods, and I’m supposedly now the most skilled witch. Surely the five of us would be able to take down one of him.”

“He can’t die, though. It’s impossible to kill a creature such as he,” Michael says.

“We could trap him in Cocytus?” It’s the first that Thanatos has spoken since he introduced himself to you.

“Sorry, but what’s Cocytus?” You ask, cheeks turning red at your ignorance.

“Cocytus is a frozen lake in which traitors and those who have committed heinous crimes of varying degrees are trapped,” Michael explains quickly before looking at Thanatos. “That’s...I’m trying to think of a reason why this would be a bad idea, but I can’t. We could lure Satan to the palace with the fake coronation, combine our powers to transmute to Cocytus with him, and then melt the lake enough to trap him inside of it before freezing it back around him. Nobody or nothing has ever escaped from Cocytus; their consciousness is frozen the minute their body is, too.”

The hope in the room seems to be renewed at Michael’s workup of your original plan. It’s not a sure victory, and there’s plenty of things that could go wrong, but it seems like it just might work. Michael shoots you a glance, smiling at you proudly before standing up from his chair. 

“If there are no further points of discussion, then we shall put this to a vote of either ‘yay’ or ‘nay.’ Lady Hecate?” You forgot that this was an official council meeting, hence the need for their original names. 

Madison stands, smoothing her dress out behind her. “Yay.”

“Lady Achlys?”

“Yay.”

“Lord Thanatos?”

“Yay.”

“Lady (Y/N)?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at Michael in confusion. 

“Um, I’m not a member of the council,” you laugh awkwardly. 

“In times of emergency, I am allowed to appoint temporary council members. I have appointed you. How do you vote, Lady (Y/N)?” You stand slowly, biting your lip while you try to hide your smile. 

“Yay.” 

“I, King Hades, Lord of the Underworld, God of the Dead, and Prince of Hell, vote ‘yay,’ and hereby confirm that this plan shall be set into motion tomorrow at the mortal time of high noon. Lady Achlys shall be in charge of planning all that happens in the palace and during the ‘coronation.’ Lady Hecate shall assist Lady Achlys with her duties, as well as making sure that the joint transmutation will go off without a hitch. Lord Thanatos, having come up with the idea to trap Satan in Cocytus, will ensure that this is a feasible option to keep him trapped for the rest of eternity. The council is now adjourned.”

The rest of the council stands, making quiet conversation as they make their way out of the library. You start to follow, but Michael snags your hand and pulls you back towards him. His strong arms wrap around you, but he remains silent until the door swings shut and everyone is gone. Once that acts as his ‘all-clear,’ he spins you around in his arms so that you’re facing him. 

“You were absolutely brilliant just then,” he remarks, kissing you gratefully. “I couldn’t have asked for a better council meeting than the one we just had.” 

“Are you kidding me? You were so--so strong, and you looked entirely like the king that you are,” you gush, beaming up at him.

“Your flattery is far too kind. Anyways, now that this meeting is done, and with your ‘coronation’ looming,” you roll your eyes, playfully pushing at his chest, “I was wondering if you would like to...uh, what’s it called? Dammit, I had this all planned out,” Michael hisses the last part to himself, but you still overhear. 

“Describe it, maybe I can help you with this modern term that has you so confused.” 

“It’s when two people who are in a courtship go out and do activities in order to connect and learn more abou--dating! That’s what it is!” You giggle at his excitement. “Would you like to go on a date with me, (Y/N)?”

“I feel like we’re pretty far past the first date stage, but yes, I would love to go on a date with you, Michael. What do you have planned?”

“I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but I will tell you that it should help alleviate some of the longing that you get for certain aspects of your homeland,” Michael smirks. “Meet me at the front entrance of the palace in twenty minutes?”

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” Your question comes out as a whine, but the pouty smile on your face tells a different story. 

“Well, I would suggest wearing a sundress or something akin to that. I assume it will be warm where we end up.”

* * *

When you had agreed to letting Michael take you on a date, being ferried across a river by the terrifying Charon was not what you had expected. Michael had promised you that the journey wouldn’t be long, but minutes seemed to stretch for hours whenever one was in Charon’s overwhelming presence. To distract yourself, you observe the scenery around you, starting with the sky. Considering you’ve never been farther than the castle grounds, almost everything that you see is completely new to you. You’re most pleased to find that, the moment you boarded Charon’s ferry and sailed off on the River Styx, the sky turned from the eternal dark you’re so familiar with to a normal, albeit overcast, sky.

“Why is it always dark at the palace if the sky changes normally everywhere else?” You ask, leaning back in the boat to watch the clouds float by. 

“I prefer it dark. Besides, it’s a complicated illusion spell, might as well make it to my liking,” Michael says simply. 

“Would you maybe consider allowing it to be daytime at home? I think I miss the sun most of all when I’m down here.”

“Well...for you, yes.” You grin, kissing him thankfully.

“Thank you, Michael! It doesn’t have to be all of the time, but maybe just some of the time?”

“You called the palace your ‘home,’” Michael points out, avoiding eye contact with you. You freeze, thinking back to what you just said before nodding. 

“I mean, it kind of is my home now. When I’m here, that’s home.  _ You’re  _ home.”

Michael wants to say something, but is stopped by the boat pushing up against the banks of the river. He stands, extending his hand to you to help you up. You keep your eyes cast towards the ground, reluctant to meet the fiery coals that make up Charon’s eyes, but Michael stares at him with an unflinching gaze. 

“Thank you, Charon. Your skills are much appreciated.”

“Will you tell me where we’re going now?” Michael still has his hand tightly holding yours as he leads you through a field of grass, the green turning brown and dead with every step he takes. 

“Do you remember when I explained to you the different levels of the Underworld?”

“Tartarus, the Asphodel Meadows, the Mourning Fields, and Elysium,” you recite. 

“Very good. Elysium, if you will recall, is the afterlife for the especially distinguished. While those who have committed unspeakable evils or have sold their souls spend eternity in their own personal hell, the souls that occupy Elysium get to live in their own personal heavens. I remembered a dream that you had quite frequently your first few days here, when you were keeping yourself locked in your room?”

“You were reading my thoughts?” You accuse teasingly. 

“I was worried, wanted to make sure that you weren’t going mad or something equally as terrifying. You slept often during that time, and had a lot of recurring dreams, including this one. It...it was the only time that I felt that you were at peace, and happy.”

“The meadow dream? How did you…?”

“It’s always stuck with me. How alive you felt when you were laying in the sun, one hand holding a book and the other hand dipped in the running stream. I don’t know if it was just a dream, or a memory that you held dear to your heart, but I wanted to recreate it for you, even if for this short amount of time.”

Michael waves his hand in the air, and the empty field changes to the meadow that you had dreamed about so many times before. You clap a hand over your mouth, eyes scanning the scene ahead of you as your mind tries to discern if this is all really happening. Michael’s smiling slightly, watching the range of emotions that cross your face: joy, disbelief, shock, happiness.

“My parents used to take me to this spot all the time when I was younger, before everything went to shit,” you mutter, stepping ahead of him and further into the meadow. “It was one of their favorite spots, and my dad almost proposed to my mom here.”

“You’ve never talked about your family before.”

“Never seen a need to,” you shrug, tilting your head back and letting the rays of the sun warm your skin. “C’mon, let’s see just how well Elysium recreated this place.”

Every detail, from the large trees that line the clearing to which patch of flowers grows where, is exactly how you remember it. Although you haven’t been to that spot in years, most likely since elementary school, being here makes it feel like you last stepped foot in this plush grass yesterday. Slipping your shoes off, you flex your toes as you feel the bare earth under your feet. Michael remains where he’s standing, choosing to watch as you take in everything that Elysium has to offer. 

“How are you wearing a full suit out here?”

“The temperature doesn’t bother me like it does you,” Michael says, allowing you to take his hands and pull him along to a shady spot under a large tree. 

“Would it bother you Above?”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

You sit down against the oak tree, leaning your back against the coarse wood. Although you expect Michael to remain standing or, if you’re lucky, sit next to you, it’s a pleasant surprise when he lays his head in your lap. Michael’s curls fan out, forming an ironic halo around his head. Carding your fingers through his long hair, you hum a tune and watch as his eyes close in bliss. 

“I can see why this place is so dear to your heart; we could stay here a thousand years and never be bothered,” Michael mutters, stifling a giggle as you start to trace his lips with your fingertips.

“When I was little, it all seemed so magical. I thought that fairies lived here, and that they were hiding in the trees. My mom helped me make houses for them, and I would make them tiny flower crowns in the hopes that they would finally reveal themselves to me,” you laugh lightly, shaking your head. “Ridiculous, right?”

“Not really. Need I remind you that you’re in the Underworld and currently holding the head of the God of the Dead in your lap?” You purse your lips, remaining silent at the realization that fairies aren’t all that crazy.

The flowers that surround you are too tempting to not make flower crowns out of, so you pick a few of different varieties and start to organize them. 

“The flowers seemed to grow in the wake of every step I took which, looking back with what I know now, they probably did. My parents grew tired of me constantly asking them what each type of flower was, so they bought me a book that identified all different types of flowers. I memorized hundreds of them, based on the pictures that accompanied each name.”

Although it’s been a long time since you made such a crown, your hands easily remember the movements. The stems of the flowers seem to weave together of their own volition, the chain growing longer as you decide which flowers would look best next to each other.

“Larkspurs, right?” Michael asks, eyes open and staring up at you.

“Hmm,” you nod in agreement. “They can grow to be eight feet tall, but you only need the smallest of larkspur plants for making a flower crown.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know too much about flowers. I mean, look at what’s happening just because I’m in the same area as they are.” Michael’s right: the flowers are all wilted around his legs, dying from his mere proximity.

“You just don’t know how to care for them yet. I’ll teach you,” picking up another stem, you twirl it between your fingers before changing the subject. “Hydrangeas are one of my favorite flowers; I love the colors that they can change to.” 

Michael watches silently, large blue eyes taking everything in. He looks almost enraptured by the movement of your hands, twisting and bending the stems of each flower until they start to form a crown. You tie the ends together with two longer stems, finishing the crown off by interloping some lily of the valley between the hydrangeas and larkspurs. Smirking at the idea that’s just formed, you quickly slip the crown on top of his head.

He sits up quickly, scowling, but you can’t help the gasp that slips out at his appearance. Michael can only be described as beautiful, the purple and blue hues complimenting his eyes perfectly. It’s a welcome splash of color to his dark wardrobe, including today’s black ensemble. Somehow, it almost makes the fearful Lord of the Underworld look softer. 

“You’re beautiful, Michael.” You whisper, not wanting to interrupt the symphony that the mockingbirds are conducting in the trees above you.

“I believe that title belongs to you, my love,” Michael begins to take the crown off of his head, fully intending to place it on yours, but you stop him. 

“Keep it. I can make another one for myself. Besides, this one suits you.”

“For you, anything,” Michael says finally, nodding and removing his hands from the crown. “But if you tell anyone about this, I’ll have to punish you.”

“How so?” Michael’s face gets closer to yours, your breath hitching at the feeling of his lips ghosting across yours. 

“Kitchen duty with the Eidolon,” he mutters, laughing when you groan loudly. 

“You, Michael, are truly an evil man,” you joke, kissing him quickly before standing. 

“Hmm, so they tell me. Shall we make our way back to the palace? There is, after all, a coronation to be planned.” Your heart thumps at the reminder of the coronation, the relaxing time in the meadow helping you to forget about the dangerous plan that was to come. Now, there was no running away from the fact: this time tomorrow, you would either be victorious...or dead.


	17. Running Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for your "coronation," and the looming final battle with Satan himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so shitty at summaries, sorry for that. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy, and if you liked this I'd love if you leave a kudos or comment!

A child’s imagination is endless, made up of numerous worlds crafted from nothing more than their minds. As a child, you would spend hours upon hours with other neighborhood children, playing as pirates, astronauts, cowboys and cowgirls, time travellers, and royalty. Bike helmets would serve as protection from the lack of oxygen in outer space, fallen branches acted as swords and pistols, daisy chains were crowns, and blankets were capes. These fairy tales, however, were just that: tales, imaginary scenarios that children dreamt up. At least, they were just tales until you fell down a Hellmouth with the God of the Dead. Five-year-old you, if she could see you right at this moment, would be absolutely green with envy.

Zoe, Madison, and Desa dress you, as they have so many times before, but it’s a silent affair this time. The tension in the room is thick and lingering, everybody on edge about the events soon to transpire. The three women are already dressed, and you assume the reason that it’s taking so long for them to get you dressed is a way to get rid of some nerves: by nitpicking about every aspect of your outfit, it allows them to visualize their stress. 

The dress that they’ve decided on is off-the-shoulder and accentuates your curves before flowing like a ball gown down the rest of your body. It’s made of some sort of crushed velvet, although the material feels a lot more luxurious than the velvet that you’re used to. What takes some getting used to is the color, a deep burgundy that is darker than anything that you’ve worn since you first arrived in the Underworld. You can’t say that you hate it, mainly because it makes you look elegant in a way that you’ve never looked before. Lighter shades of red lick up the hem of the dress, making it look like you’re trailing flames. 

Your makeup’s been done to perfection, but you wouldn’t expect anything else when Madison’s in charge. A silver necklace accented with rubies drips down your neck, and Zoe’s tongue pokes out of her mouth in concentration as she attaches matching ruby earrings to your earlobes. Reaching up to twist the silver ring with a cloudy gray pearl that sits on your index finger, you realize that your hands are shaking. 

“Hey,” Madison calls to get your attention, “stop shaking or else you are going to end up sounding like a wind chime with your necklace clanking around.” It’s a lame attempt to get you to smile, and the most you can force out is a halfhearted chuckle. 

“I’ll try my hardest.”

“Whatever happens, (Y/N), we’re doing this together. Luckily for you, I don’t tolerate losing, so our only option is to win.”

“Ladies, it is time.” A knock sounds a second before the door opens, Thanatos peeking his head in. 

“Are you ready?” Desa asks.

“Nope, but that doesn’t really matter since we’re doing this.” You blink away a sudden rush of tears when you smile at Desa for what may be the last time, taking a deep breath and nodding. “Now or never, then.”

Even from outside of the Grand Hall, you can still tell that the regality of this affair is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. Just seeing the procession ahead of you of demons, mythical beings, and gods is insanely intimidating. Although you and Michael have gone through how the coronation will go, and what to say and do, you’re still worried that you’ll mess up. Before you can have any more time to worry, however, the large doors open and the orchestral music swells. 

Every person, or creature, stands the moment you enter. In this moment, you wish more than ever that Michael was by your side. Madison would absolutely berate you in this moment if she could, the sight of you trying to avoid shaking like a leaf as you walk down the aisle presumably rage-inducing. Everybody’s eyes are glued to you, the train of your dress trailing behind you. It honestly feels like a wedding, and you’re extremely thankful that you’re not actually marrying, or becoming queen, today. You love Michael, but the thought of anything as extravagant as what you’re experiencing right now is nauseating. 

Michael stands on a raised altar, wearing his finest black uniform and a red cape with ornate attachments. A sword is sheathed at his side, the bejeweled hilt resting just above his hip. That beautiful black crown, adorned with red rubies, sits perched atop his golden curls; Michael’s ethereally intimidating, and you can see how his quiet demeanor is enough to rule over all of the dead. You smile shakily when you reach him, but he doesn’t break his stern face as he holds out a hand for you to grasp. He helps you sink to your knees, handmaidens fixing your dress behind you. 

“Sirs and Madams, I present to you (Y/N) (Y/L/N), your undoubted Queen.  Wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage and service, are you willing to do the same?” Cassius, a high-ranking demon, has agreed to act as the master of ceremonies for today’s fake coronation and begins the proceedings. The crowd all affirms that they are willing, and Cassius turns to stand next to Michael and face you.

“Will you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of the Underworld, and all of its domains, by the respective laws and customs?” Michael looks down at you and asks. Your hands rest in your lap, fingers twisting and turning nervously as you nod.

“I solemnly promise so to do,” you recite with a shaking voice.

“Will you to your power cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”

“I will.”

“Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the laws of the Underworld and preserve its legacy?”

“I will.”

The handmaidens walk forward at this cue and place a shimmering gold cape that drapes over your shoulders. Michael’s handed a small bowl with an ‘anointing oil’ inside of it. Due to the fact that this is a fake coronation, the oil is actually just water mixed with some lavender extract. Dipping his thumb into the ‘oil,’ he draws a symbol on your forehead while proclaiming something in Latin. You briefly realize that you’re going to have to learn Latin soon enough, a daunting task that you’ll push to the side for now as Michael takes your crown from the pedestal it sits upon.

Zoe had told you that there would be a special crown designed for the event, but you didn’t realize just how beautiful it would be. Delicate silver filigree connects the silver leaves to the base of the crown, creating a tiara that childhood you would have gone absolutely crazy for. Your favorite part, however, is the small flowers crafted out of the black onyx that Michael’s so fond of, small rubies dotting the center of each one. Although this isn’t an actual coronation, you’d be honored to wear a crown as beautiful and as regal as this one.

You hold your breath as the crown is placed on top of your head, sure that Satan’s going to tear the roof off of the building. Based on what you’re expecting, it’s anticlimactic when you’re crowned and nothing happens. Michael, to the outside eye, doesn’t look concerned, but you can see the confusion on his face. Where’s the uproar, the screaming? Nobody was planning on this to actually go off without a hitch. Michael proceeds as if nothing unexpected has happened, taking your hands and pulling you up to your feet. 

“Queen (Y/N), ruler of the Underworld. Long may she reign.” Michael formally presents you to the crowd of people, who all stand in recognition.

“Long may she reign,” they repeat before cheering.

“Oh yes,  _ long may she reign _ ,” a mocking voice sounds above the cheering, sending the attendees into silence. A man steps into the aisle, calmly approaching the altar that you and Michael stand on.  He’s tall, his unruly black hair somehow manages to look like he styled it that way, and his hazel eyes seem to flicker and crackle with sparks. Guards stand at attention, ready to protect you if the need arises, but a mere flick of the man’s hand sends the guards falling to the ground in a heap. “My son, are you really so naive as to believe that I would not find out about this secret coronation of yours?”

Michael steps ahead, putting a protective arm in front of your body. It’s at this moment that you realize two things: One, that Satan was able to assume a human form in order to sneak into the coronation. While this is frightening, the second thing that you realize assures you that the plan is not completely derailed, and this is that Satan doesn’t realize that this is a fake coronation. He thinks that you’ve just been legitimately crowned queen, which means that Michael’s assumption about his father’s impulsiveness proves correct. 

“Oh, I’m not naive at all. In fact, I like to believe that I planned this perfectly. You are, after all, our honored guest this afternoon.” Satan quirks an eyebrow, scoffing at Michael’s vague statement.

“Pardon my bluntness, but what exactly are you getting at?”

“He’s saying that we’ve got you right where we want you, dumbass,” Madison speaks up from amongst the crowd, self-assured voice ringing loud and clear. Satan slowly looks over his shoulder, smiling a smile that, you realize with a pang in your chest, is the exact same feral grin that you’ve seen multiple times on Michael. 

“The Goddess of Witchcraft. I was wondering when you would grace us with your presence,” Satan sarcastically retorts. “Let us stop with these games, Michael. You know what I want, and you know that I can and will get it with whatever means necessary.” You hold back a shudder when he turns those cold eyes towards you; if there was ever a time to describe someone as having eyes filled with hellfire, it would be now.

“Then you should also know,  _ Father _ , that I don’t cater to the whims of those below me.”

“‘Below’ you?” Satan’s impulsiveness strikes once again as he steps closer, standing on the bottom step of the altar while pointing a long finger at Michael. “I  _ created  _ you, boy, and you would do well to remember that.”

“Madison?” Michael calls, the goddess fluidly raising a hand in the air. You watch with bated breath as she draws out the tension before closing her hand into a fist. Like a mirage, the crowd of spectators shimmer before disappearing into thin air. The once-full Grand Hall is now deserted, save for you, Madison, Zoe, Michael, Thanatos, and Satan. 

“A clever parlor trick, but I do not see how this factors into your grand plan.”

“It’s simply a way to avoid collateral damage,” Michael smirks.

When Satan goes to question Michael again, his face is frozen in an open-mouthed, angry expression. You’re momentarily confused until you glance over and see Madison and Zoe working together to keep him frozen to his spot. 

“The spell won’t keep him like this for too long; we need to transmute  _ now _ , or else we’ll lose our chance,” Zoe commands in a rare show of dominance. Michael clasps one of your hands as you form a circle around Satan, Zoe grabbing onto your other hand to connect the chain of magic. Once everyone has a hold on someone else’s hand, Madison nods. 

“I’m going to release him from his bonds. The second I let go, we need to transmute.” You nod, nerves being overtaken by the desire to defeat this man who, for all intents and purposes, has attempted to make your life a living hell. “Now!”

Even with everyone’s powers being combined, the toll that it takes on your mortal body to help move the Devil through time and space is extremely noticeable. You’re panting, chest heaving as if you’ve just ran a marathon. Your overheated body, however, quickly becomes chilled when the eternal winter air of Cocytus freezes your nerve endings. The sleeveless coronation gown does little to protect you from the elements, and you clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering. Satan stumbles forward as he suddenly regains control of his body, synapses trying to catch up to the reflexes that were delayed while he was under Madison’s control. Madison, Zoe, and Thanatos go to work at discreetly heating up the thick layer of ice that lays beneath Satan’s feet, while you and Michael start to distract him. 

“I admire your desire to move this little battle of yours to the edge of your domain in an attempt to minimize casualties, Michael. However, this will make it quite difficult for your subjects to recover your bodies after I am done with you five.” Although Satan’s got his eyes locked on Michael’s, shivers still wrack down your spine from the intensity of it all. 

“You’ve always been far too cocky for your own good, Father,” Michael says.

“And you have always been too churlish. My problem, though, does not lie with you.”

Satan steps towards you slowly, hair barely rustling even with the icy wind whipping across the flat landscape. Michael attempts to put himself in front of you, offering his body as your shield, but you place your hand on his shoulder to stop him. No words are exchanged between you, but the look in your eyes says it all. You need to do this, need to keep the Devil occupied with the misguided hope that he could take his ‘enemy’ out easily. The ice is too thick for just Madison, Zoe, and Thanatos to melt, and he would figure out the plan immediately if you were to start helping. It needs to be you that captures his attention.

“Look, I never wanted any of this in the first place. You know that I wasn’t originally brought here of my own volition, right?” Your eyes shift quickly from Satan to his son, letting the golden-haired god know to start helping the others. 

“I figured as much upon seeing how you reacted to your first few days in the Underworld. Indeed, I had hoped that you would find your way back Above without my intervention. After all, I have never been one for getting my hands dirty. But once you attended that ball with Michael, I knew that I needed to make an appearance in order to...spur everyone into saving the life of their sweet, innocent little human pet,” Satan mocks with a wide grin. “Imagine my surprise and delight when the Underworld attempted to expel you itself.”

“So you didn’t know that the Underworld was slowly killing me?” It’s a dumb question to ask, but it masks the subtle cracking of the ice as the structure starts to weaken. 

“I did not, but it certainly worked to my advantage. That is, until you decided to attempt the test of the Seven Wonders with the expectation that, if you passed, your title of Supreme Witch would allow you more time in the Underworld.”

“And now I’m here,” you mutter, flexing your frozen fingers to keep from shaking with nerves. Your life has been full of fears being faced in recent months, but nothing you’ve seen so far compares to the fear you feel from being in front of the embodiment of the antithesis of good. 

“And now you are here,” Satan agrees. “I must admit, (Y/N), I admire your fiery tenacity. Your dedication to those that you care about is one of the few positive human traits that I shall miss upon my destruction of humanity.”

“Who says you’ll even get the chance to destroy humanity?” Satan laughs loudly, spreading his arms as if to prove a point. 

“How can any of you expect to defeat me, when I have already won? All of the magic in the universe would not be able to kill me; your attempts, while noble, have proven fruitless. And now, you all must die.” 

When your lungs start burning for air, it takes your brain a moment to realize what’s happening. It’s ironic that the lack of oxygen is preventing you from registering that your airway is obviously being cut off, and it’s only when you see Satan’s hand flexing at his side that your mind makes the connection that it’s his powers that are suffocating you. A loud gasping noise is the only sound you can make as your hands come up to your throat, fingers clawing at the invisible hands that have you in a vice like grip. He laughs as he lifts his hand, the invisible hand holding you captive forcing your body up in the air. Michael’s attention is drawn away from his task when he senses your distress, and you have to furiously shake your head to let him know that you’ve got things under control.

Black spots dance across your vision as you hold your own hand out, trying to summon the large chunk of ice that you can see laying thirty feet away. You’re pleased to know that, even on the verge of losing consciousness, your powers still remain as potent as they have been since you finished your last wonder. The frozen mass wobbles before propelling forwards, smacking against Satan’s skull before he can comprehend the giant ice ball flying straight at him. It doesn’t knock him out, but it does knock him down and jar his concentration, releasing you from his grasp. 

The burning in your lungs is even worse as you hurriedly breathe heavy gasps of air, body trying to make up for the lack of oxygen it’s experienced. You’re on your hands and knees, coughing while you try to blink your vision back into place. The three Satans that keep weaving in and out of your eyesight are slow to get up, and you’re already back on your feet by the time he manages to crawl to his knees.

“It truly is a shame that, after all the trouble your friends went through to save their precious human, you will die at my hand.” Satan morphs from his human body to the being that you first saw him as, with a coal-black body that moves as if it’s made of smoke, raised etchings decorating his ‘skin.’ Those burning embers that constitute his eyes are somehow less terrifying than his piercing human gaze, but they still burn down upon you. 

Satan’s transformation into his original form, which he sees as his final show of power before he kills you once and for all, works to your advantage. The ice, slowly yet surely cracking beneath him the entire time, now starts to rupture loudly from the combination of the weakening structure and the sudden extra weight standing on top of it. Satan yells when he looks down to see what’s happening underneath him, stepping back to escape the danger. When you combine your power with theirs, it is the missing link that is needed to fully melt the ice underneath him. A tremendous breaking sound rings through the air, the ice finally giving way to the freezing waters that flow below. 

His claws scrabble across the ice as his lower half is submerged, but even Satan is no match to the freezing shock to the nervous system that falling through ice provides. The fire in his eyes is extinguished as he bobs up and down in the water, slowly sinking down into the depths of Cocytus. You watch with bated breath as the once-great creature is reduced to nothing more than a block of ice, his outstretched hand being the last part of him that you see. You all look at each other in disbelief, trying to find the words to accurately describe how you’re feeling.

“Did...did we do it?” Zoe asks, hands on her hips as she tries to gather her breath.

“I think so,” Thanatos replies, peering into the rushing, dark water for any sign of life. 

Michael smiles at you, and you start to make your way towards him from across the ice. His face, however, quickly turns into a look of alarm when you hear cracking from under your feet. Whether the ice was overheated from the combination of your powers or Satan’s weight had more of an effect on the surface than any of you realized, it doesn’t matter in this moment. 

“Run!” A chorus of voices start screaming, three sets of eyes and one set of empty eye sockets watching as you stumble through the snow to try and get to safety. Ice, unfortunately, is much faster than you. You can barely form a scream before the ice breaks beneath you, plunging you into the freezing waters.

Inadvertently gasping at the shock of suddenly being in the coldest water you’ve ever felt, your lungs become flooded with the water. Everytime your body tries to cough it up, you inhale more. Your arms and legs thrash around you as you try to remember how to swim, but the panic and the shock make it impossible to even think. You don’t even know which way is up, the water so disorienting that every direction seems to be the same.

Up above, Madison screams after you disappear. Michael surges forward, forgetting the apparent danger that comes with unstable ice. He starts to kick at the snow, uncovering the ice to try and see if he can find your body. Zoe looks into the hole where you fell through, tracking the current that moves the water, and your body, downstream. 

“The current’s this way!” She yells, gaining the attention of the three others who are furiously kicking snow out of the way.

“Michael, breathe,” Madison touches his shoulders to make him focus on her. “Pinpoint her life force, use your powers.” 

Michael nods, hands raking through his hair while he tries to find you. When he does locate your spirit, he runs along the direction of the current, falling to his knees and clearing the snow away from the ice. He starts to pound his fists against the ice, desperately trying to break through before he loses his chance.

It’s funny, you dimly think, how this dying experience is so much different than your last. When you were dying of the fever, your body killing itself as a response to being in the Underworld, you were terrified. You didn’t want to die, and the disorienting blur of events frightened your already-scared self. Now, though, you’re calm. Maybe you’re already dead? After the panic subsided, the only thing left was a serene sense of peace. The current that you’re drifting along with is comforting, wrapping around you like a thick blanket and completely enveloping you.

The last thing that you think about is Michael, but that’s not too surprising. You imagine his smile and how he was never able to understand your millennial jokes. You can almost feel his hands clutching yours, surprisingly warm considering he’s the God of the Dead. You wish you had more time with him, imagining all of the things that you would be able to do if you weren’t going to die in this water. Sure, you would have had to find some way to remain in the Underworld that was more permanent than being the Supreme, but you could handle anything as long as Michael was at your side. “ _ I’m sorry, Michael, _ ” you think.

“Get back!” Madison waits for Thanatos to drag Michael away before muttering an explosion spell. There’s no way that Michael would have been able to smash his way through the thick ice, and his bloodied fists would only become worse if she allowed him to continue his futile pursuit. The spell helps to make some progress, but Madison has to repeat the spell two more times before the ice breaks away and exposes the water.

Michael crawls to the jagged lip of broken ice, jeweled hand reaching into the freezing water to try and fish you out. He searches through the water, your body bumping into him right as he was starting to consider jumping in himself. You’re dead weight, and Michael has to wrap both of his arms around you to drag you back up onto the ice. Your lips are a sickening blue, and Michael panics when he can’t find your pulse.

CPR isn’t something he’s too familiar with, but he knows enough about the process to start pumping at your chest and administering compressions. Zoe clutches onto Madison, tears freezing as they make tracks down her cheeks. Thanatos, so used to being the one to help, can do nothing but watch as Michael tries to resuscitate you. Michael pinches your nose shut and tilts your chin back, breathing into your mouth before starting compressions again. When you cough up buckets of water, chest heaving as your lungs get rid of the water while simultaneously attempting to breathe normally again, Michael sobs. When your eyes blink open and you look around, everybody, even Madison, sobs. 

“Hi, darling,” Michael mumbles, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. You smile weakly, Michael stopping you as you try to speak through your coughing. “Shh, it’s okay. You don’t need to say anything.”

Although he tells you not to speak, there’s a million things that you want to say. How grateful you are for being saved, the happiness you feel at Satan being gone, the excitement at what comes next, how tired you are after coming back to life, and especially how cold you are. Michael doesn’t need to hear you say it out loud though, smiling as he hears your inner monologue. He stands with you in his arms, carrying you off of the death trap of a frozen lake so that he can transmute with you and get you warmed up before you go into shock, Madison, Zoe, and Thanatos staying behind to freeze the river back over again to fully trap Satan and his consciousness. There’s a million things that you want to say, but now you have all the time in the world to say it.


	18. And the Birds Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael takes on the entirely unfamiliar role of nurse as he tries to help you recover from your trip to Cocytus, while you deal with some troubling revelations in the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, you all know I'm terrible at summaries. If you've read this far, I'm hoping you can already guess what this chapter's about. Feedback is always appreciated (I love comments!) and, if you feel so inclined, leave a kudos if you enjoyed. Happy reading!
> 
> P.S. I've started to affectionately refer to the core group of reader, Michael, Madison, Zoe, and Thanatos as the Hell Gang.

The fire in Michael’s room is already roaring by the time he returns with you tucked safely in his arms, a sure sign that everyone in the Underworld knows about what had happened on that frozen lake of the damned. He gently sets you on the chest at the foot of his bed, darting back and forth as he attempts to find the needed supplies. Shivers wrack through you, your body already missing the heat that Michael provides you. A pile of blankets sits waiting on top of the bed, and Michael finally returns from his office with a knife.

“Gonna put me out of my misery?” You struggle to say the joke, teeth chattering hard enough to make you mildly concerned that one will crack. Michael smiles thinly, a sign that he’s trying not to make his anxiety visible.

“No, but I do need to get you out of your wet clothes, and there’s too many layers to worry about taking them off one at a time.” You nod, dipping your head slightly to allow Michael to remove your crown from your wet strands of hair.

“Why is it that I always seem to get into trouble when I’m wearing a beautiful dress?” You ponder, lamenting the loss of the masterpiece of a dress that Michael is carefully slicing off of your body. 

“I’d much rather we lose the dress than lose you,” Michel mutters, tongue poking out in concentration as he works the blade through your corset. “Stand up, please.”

It takes a little effort, your legs wobbling and Michael having to support you while he also removes your now-ruined dress from your body. You’re left standing in just your undergarments, Michael holding your hands so that you can step out of them. Despite the freezing cold that has replaced the blood running through your veins, you still feel your cheeks heating up at being naked in front of Michael. It’s not like he’s never seen you naked before, but it’s still something that’s very intimate to you. Michael, however, shows no sign of being phased by your lack of clothes. He barely even glances at your body, instead walking you over to sit on the bed and starting to wrap you up in blankets. He’s dedicated in completing the task, using each and every blanket until only your face is poking through the nest that now surrounds you. 

“Why can’t I just take a bath or something? I’m still wet,” you point out, nose wrinkling as your hair starts to leak through onto the blankets.

“If I warm you up too fast, it could be dangerous to your health.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t know much about mortal ailments.”

“When you’ve lived for as long as I have, you tend to pick up a few things.” You raise an eyebrow when Michael starts to strip, ending up in the same state as you.

“Um, can I ask  _ why  _ you’re also taking your clothes off?” You’re determined to keep your eyes on his face and  _ not  _ on his sculpted body.

“Body heat is also a good way to warm someone up when they’re getting hypothermic.”

Michael slides under the covers next to you, pulling your blanket-wrapped self up against him. Even under the mountain of blankets, his warmth still radiates through to you. He hums quietly, your head feeling like it’s being rifled through in what you assume is Michael absentmindedly listening to your thoughts. You want to scold him, but you know that he likely doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s a bad habit, he’s explained to you before, and he always feels really bad whenever he finally catches on that the thoughts are not his.

“I always thought you would be really cold,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering as you stare at the fire. “Imagine my surprise when I learned you’re actually a space heater.”

“Why did you assume that I would be cold?”

“The whole ‘God of the Dead’ thing. Dead people are pretty cold, so I thought you’d be the same way,” you speak through a yawn, the silence of the room and Michael’s steady breathing starting to lull you to sleep.

“Isn’t there a saying? ‘The warmer you are, the closer to Hell you are,’ or something like that?” You’re not looking at him, but you can still see the cheeky smirk he must have on his face.

“It’s about being short, not being warm.” Michael revels in your response, gently shaking you when he can sense that you’re about to fall asleep. “What the hell, Michael?”

He ignores the opportunity to make a joke. “I don’t want you to sleep until I know that your temperature is back where it’s supposed to be.”

“Damn you and your common sense.”

Without your knowledge, Michael summons a member of the staff. Cassius, the demon who had agreed to sacrifice his very existence for the sake of defeating Satan, appears. Cassius looks at Michael, as if to make sure it’s okay for him to use his powers. When Michael nods, the demon takes a very cautious glance at Michael’s thoughts to determine what he needs without either of them alerting you of his presence. The smaller man with horns and fangs disappears before returning with a small tray of what Michael had requested. Michael nods, both to thank and dismiss his loyal subject; black eyes dart to you before he transmutes out of the room. 

“Are you feeling up to drinking some tea, darling mine? I would think its warmth would help to warm you up.”

“How did…” you turn your head, looking over at the tray that just seems to have magically appeared in the room. “You and your damn demon posse.”

“Here, drink.” Michael brings the steaming cup to your lips, waiting patiently until you begrudgingly start to drink it.

“You know, I can hold it myself.”

“(Y/N),” Michael says in exasperation, “I almost lost you today, for the second time. Please, just this once, let me take care of you.” 

His words have you stunned into silence, and you finally nod in agreement. “Okay,” you say quietly, at a loss for words at how much this has affected him.

“I apologize for snapping at you, but you must understand how I felt when I saw the ice starting to break under your feet. Watching you fall into the lake, and being rendered helpless to rescue you, was the epitome of my worst nightmare. I have never felt fear quite like I did when I was attempting to spot you through the ice. I thought that--that you would be swept away, and lost forever. I had just gotten you back, and then it seemed like I was going to lose you all over again.”

“You were the only thing I could think of when I realized that I wouldn’t be able to find the surface,” you admit. “Out of all of the possible thoughts that could be my last, I was worried about how you were going to fare when I died.”

“I would have been a complete and utter mess.” When Michael’s satisfied with the amount of tea that you’ve drank, he sets the cup down and picks up a thermometer. “How does this thing work?”

You take it from him, swiftly uncapping it and positioning it under your tongue. The cool metal fills you with nostalgia, reminding you of trips to the nurse’s office throughout your years in school. Whether you were sick or not, that thermometer would always be a guarantee for any need, even one as simple as obtaining a painkiller. Michael’s silent while you wait for the device to beep, and you idly play with the rings that still decorate his long fingers. A shrill beep pierces the air, and Michael stares at the thermometer like it’s a foreign object.

“What’s a normal body temperature for a human?” Stifling a giggle, you read the numbers on the LED screen before putting it back on the tray it appeared on. 

“Ninety eight point six-ish?”

“So is it bad that yours is ninety three?”

“Not good, but not bad. It means I’m recovering. Considering you had to revive me, it could be a lot worse.” Michael groans, pulling you closer into his arms as if to remind himself that his resuscitation efforts actually worked.

“Please don’t remind me about that.” The cheeky smile on your face falls when you hear his strangled voice. Turning your head in his grasp, you see that his eyes are shut tightly while he attempts to prevent any tears from escaping.

“Hey,” your voice grows soft as you disentangle one of your hands from the nest of blankets, using it to stroke Michael’s cheek, “stop thinking about it. I’m right here, in front of you. I’m warm...er than I was, and I’m alive and recovering and safe in your arms.”

“But you weren’t...I saw you  _ dead _ …” he mutters, lost in the events that preceded your current situation.

“Michael,” you wait for him to look at you before speaking. “Look at me. What happened was not your fault.”

“It was  _ all _ my fault, (Y/N). I’m the reason there’s a prophecy in the first place, and the reason why you’re stuck here. You almost died--no, you did die, all because I put you in the middle of my battle with my father.”

“Stop talking like that, or else I’ll get Madison to hold me,” you threaten sternly. “Every action has been my choice. I chose to complete the Seven Wonders and come back here, I chose to tell you that I love you, I chose to be a part of the plan that I came up with. Do not, for a single second, blame yourself for anything. I am an adult who is capable of making my own choices, which I did.”

Michael listens silently, mulling over your words as he kisses the top of your head. “I’ve never been more proud of anyone than I was of you today.”

“Lying to make me feel better.”

“No!” Michael insists, moving the blanket away from your face so he can actually see your facial features. “Not only did you handle the burden of a coronation, however fake it may have been, with dignity and grace, but you also managed to be a total...what’s the word?” He trails off, brows furrowing as he attempts to figure out what he wants to say.

“Badass?” You fill in with the only word that pops to mind. 

“Yes! I don’t really know what it means, but you say it a lot and it seems to describe how you were when distracting my father.” His cheeks color a tantalizing shade of red, and you can’t help the urge to lean over and plant featherlight kisses on them. 

“While I appreciate that, Michael, I highly doubt it was anything too extraordinary.”

“You undervalue yourself far too often, my love. If I ever get lucky enough for you to accept my offer, you will most certainly be the best queen the Underworld could ever have. You’re kind, and brilliant, and selfless in ways that I could never be.”

Michael, sensing your hesitation at how best to respond, places the back of his hand on your forehead.

“You seem to be warming up. Are you still feeling up for a bath?”

“A bath sounds nice.” Michael stands, and you can’t help but to admire the firmness of his ass before your eyes fly up to his face in embarrassment. 

“I’ll be only a moment,” he promises. When the bathroom door closes behind him, the wistful smile on your face remains just as prevalent.

“You’re doing much better than you were, I presume?” The garden (your garden, you suppose) that you’re sitting in is bathed in warm sunlight, courtesy of Michael giving in to your pleas to have just a couple hours of sunlight at the castle every once in a while. You tap your foot against the ground nervously, being gentle not to nudge a sleeping Cerberus and smiling politely as you sit across a small table from the Queen of the Gods herself. Violet’s dressed in what you believe is her version of casual; a beige dress that falls to her knees, accompanied by a large red cardigan. 

When you woke in the morning after falling asleep in Michael’s arms, hair still wet from the warm bath, an ornately sealed letter sat on the dresser. Olympus, Michael read out loud, had learned of what had happened on Cocytus. An emergency council was to be held between the trio of main gods, with the meeting taking place in the Underworld in order to give Zeus and Poseidon the opportunity to inspect the locale where Satan was now entombed. To everyone’s surprise, Michael’s beloved sister made the trip as well, with the specific request of speaking to you privately. Needless to say, nervous would be an understatement as to how you’re feeling.

“I am, thank you. It was...frightening, to wake up on the ice and not have any clue what was happening, but I knew I was in good hands.”

“Knowing Michael, he would have personally found a way to reverse time if he hadn’t been able to bring you back to life,” Violet sips delicately at her tea. “What is it like?”

“What is what like?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“To die, not only once, but twice?”

“Four times, technically.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, when my body was shutting down because of the ‘nothing living can survive in the Underworld’ prophecy, my heart stopped twice once I was admitted to a hospital Above.”

Violet stares at you for a long moment, a slow smile spreading across her face. “A true warrior, then. So tell me, (Y/N), how does one feel after dying and being brought back to life multiple times?”

“I’m not the same person that I was when I was first brought here, that’s for sure,” a dry chuckle accompanies your statement as you shake your head, staring down at the milky surface of your beverage. “I don’t think that you get to die and come back the exact same as you were. You come back...wrong, in a way. Like there’s a part of you missing, or a part of you that’s changed. Maybe your soul splits into a thousand little pieces when you die, and a few of those pieces don’t get the memo that they’re supposed to return to your body. We are all, after all, made up of stardust. Our souls must, in theory, return to the stars when we die, and the most rebellious parts of it refuse to come back down on the occasion that a person is brought back to life.”

“So you believe all creatures are celestial beings?”

“With all due respect, I don’t mean to get into a theological debate.”

“No, please, I’m intrigued. I would appreciate it if you continued.” She waves her small hand in the air, signalling you to continue.

“It’s a fact that, no matter what created the universe, parts of the universe are embedded in each and every one of us. Iron, one of the most abundant metals, can only be created in the depths of a dying star. We’re not celestial beings, in that we’re not heavenly bodies or something that’s not of the world that we, as mortals, know. However, we’re celestial beings because we’re literally  _ composed  _ of bits of the very fabric of the universe itself.”

For all of the talking that Michael does, Violet is the opposite. Whereas Michael would have interjected to provide his own viewpoint on whatever matter he agrees or disagrees with, Violet waits until you’ve reached the conclusion of your statement before forming her own response. The differences between them are stark, but the more time you spend with Violet, the more you notice mannerisms and characteristics that remind you of the man that is now your lover. When he smiles his genuine smile, he looks just like his sister. Their eyes both contain that same twinkle of mischief, and they share the same biting wit.

“You are quite the introspective soul, (Y/N). I pity what we may have lost had death decided to fully claim you.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

“Please, after yesterday’s events, I believe we are far past the stage of formalities.” Your eyes widen as you understand the hidden meaning in her words. 

“It wasn’t a real coronation, it was just a ruse to lure Satan to us,” you explain hurriedly. 

“I’m aware. Very clever, might I add. But,” her kind eyes pierce through you, to the depths of your soul, “I know there was an ulterior motive to you undertaking the tests of the Seven Wonders.”

“I wasn’t about to let the end of the world be solely my fault.”

“Admirable, of course. However, you seem to be under the impression that my dear brother does not choose to share anything that he deems to be important with me.” Your expression sours with the realization that Michael writes to his sister about his (and presumably your) love life. “You have both professed your love for each other, then?”

“I mean, yeah, but it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“For starters, the fact that completing the Seven Wonders only buys me some time. I’m still very human, and I’m going to have to leave here before my body starts trying to kill me for being in the Underworld again.”

“How are you to be queen, then?”

“I’m not--I’m not sure if I’m ready to be queen, or even if I want to be queen.” You absentmindedly pet one of Cerberus’s heads, a foolproof way to help calm your rising nerves. 

“What is holding you back?” You’re reminded how much of a child you truly are in the eyes of this millenia-old goddess as you avoid making eye contact and give Violet a half-hearted shrug. 

“I don’t want to leave Above for the rest of time. I like being human, no matter how much I complain about it.”

“You enjoy the sorrows of a mortal life? War, famine, poverty, tragedy, sickness, and all of the other terrible occurrences that would be avoided were you to become Michael’s queen?”

“Are there not versions of suffering that the gods experience as well? I’ve learned quite a bit about all of the different wars that have been fought, either directly or indirectly by Olympians. There may not be poverty in the traditional sense, but you can be lacking in a lot of different areas. Surely, you must also feel terrible when tragedies hit mankind? I mean, Michael literally kidnapped me so that he could stop the apocalypse.

“Yes, there are bad parts to humanity, but there’s bad parts of every species. I like getting to see the comradery that happens in times of turmoil, and the activism that my generation is using to make legitimate changes in society. It’s the little things, as well, that make being human worth it. Long car drives with no set destination in mind and the music blasting, street festivals, eating ice cream on a hot summer night, watching the leaves change, the holiday season. Getting excited over a new movie coming out, re-reading a favorite book, the families that we create, hobbies that get us through a long week. To you, these may seem dumb and miniscule. To me, however, it’s what makes life worth living. I don’t want to lose that.”

Violet sits in silence, wrapped up in her mind as she thinks over what you’ve just said. You tap your fingers against the edge of the table, looking anywhere and everywhere in an attempt to not lose your mind at the thought of possibly upsetting a goddess. Maybe your little speech was too impassioned? It’s not that she offended you, but her seeming aversion to the human race was enough to send you rushing to defend your fellow humans. 

“You and Michael are the definition of a juxtaposition,” she finally speaks, allowing you to let out a breath that you weren’t aware you were holding.

“Um, I don’t really see what that has to do with my defense of humanity?”

“Where Michael is dark, you are light. You smooth out his rough edges, while making him whole again at the same time. He’s rooted in reality and cynical, but you allow him to see the more fantastical, rose-tinted side of things. Yin and yang, I believe it is called?” You nod silently, letting her know she’s got it right.

“It’s nice to know that we complement each other so well, but that still doesn’t solve my dilemma.”

Violet’s pale hand is suddenly on top of yours, making you freeze in your spot. Smiling kindly in an effort to soothe the sudden rush of panic seizing your body, she stands from the table and pulls you up with her. Cerberus’s heads perk up, but he quickly dozes back off when he realizes there’s no danger. She clasps her hands in yours and, although she’s smaller than you, you feel shorter than her in this moment. 

“Talk to him. Let him know that you want to be his queen, but without sacrificing your humanity in the process. Trust me, if he loves you half as much as he claims in his letters, he will find a way to make you happy. Communication is the key to a healthy relationship; that is something that I wish Tate and I knew much earlier in our time together.”

As is your signature move when faced with a rush of emotion that you don’t know how to translate into words, you wrap Violet in a hug. She seems much more familiar with the expression than Michael, returning your gesture happily. 

“Thank you,” you mutter against her shoulder.

“Of course. If I am to have a ‘sister-in-law,’ as you mortals call it,” she teases, “I could not hope for a better one than you.”

“Violet!” Tate’s voice booms through the garden, alerting you both that the rendezvous is now over. “Violet, we need to be leaving soon.”

“It appears as though that is my cue,” she laments. “Do you promise that you will talk to him?”

“I will,” you nod.

“Good. Send me a letter and let me know how it goes; Hermes makes the trip from Olympus to the Underworld, and back again, daily. Give it to him and he shall know what to do with it.” 

Violet kisses both of your cheeks before turning to walk through the garden and find her husband. Once they’ve both disappeared into the palace, you set off on a renewed quest to find Michael. He’s not in the throne room, nor is he in his office, which only leaves one other place that you know he frequents: the library. The library in which, arguably, you allowed your walls to come down and let Michael wedge his way into your heart. 

He’s sitting on the bottom of one of the winding staircases that lead to ancient Greek texts, pensieve as he thinks about the meeting that has just transpired with the gods that are his equals. When you call his name, he tilts his head up, standing to greet you. His hands are clasped behind his back, and a smile lights up his face. It’s ironic, you note, how much the God of the Dead smiles when in your presence. 

“What is it, (Y/N)? Did something happen?” Michael asks. You shake your head, taking his hands in yours in a gesture reminiscent of Violet’s, mere minutes ago.

“No. Michael, I’ve made up my mind.”

“About?”

“I want to rule beside you. I want to be your queen.”


	19. Human Influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does a moment last forever? Usually by the author having to take an unexpected month break directly after posting a cliffhanger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Welcome back, and thank you so much for being patient with me as I moved, started a new school year, and started my new jobs. I would love if you left a comment. Feedback is always appreciated, leave a kudos and bookmark if you liked reading this. Thanks so much for supporting my little passion project! P.S…….there’s smut in this chapter ;)

The library’s eerily quiet as Michael stares at you, trying to decipher whether this is some sick joke on your part. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but can’t help how his heart (unnecessary, but still a part of him) begins to race upon hearing your words. This moment, that sentence, is all that he’s wanted to hear from you since you first warmed up to him. It seems unreal to him that this is happening now, and Michael briefly wonders if having to put up with Tate and Jim-- _ they couldn’t come up with better names? _ \--has driven him mad.

“Tell me that you’re not joking,” he says quietly, as if speaking too loud will change your mind. Smiling, you bring your lips to his ear.

“I’m not joking.”

Michael pulls away from you, blue eyes impossibly wide as his mind races. “(Y/N), are you being completely serious? This is what you want?”

“It is.” You grab his hand, squeezing it reassuringly in the hopes that this is welcome news. “I mean, there’s a few things we need to work out, such as me being able to still retain my humanity and not being fully tied to the Underworld, as well as how I’m going to stay here without almost dying again, but yes, this is what I want. I want to be with you, Michael. I love you, and I’m meant to be yours just as much as you’re meant to be mine. There’d be no greater honor than ruling alongside you, if that’s still what you want?”

“If that’s still what I want,” Michael repeats, his stunned expression finally changing into the smirk that you love so much. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, darling mine.  _ You’re  _ all I’ve ever wanted.”

“So you’re okay with me wanting to still have my humanity?”

“I would move all the stars in the sky if you asked me to do so. Any concession that you ask of me, I’ll give you. You’ve--” he breaks off, grabbing your face in his hands and pressing a searing kiss to your lips. “You have made me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Have I?” you tease, kissing him as you grind your hips against his. 

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, and you let out a noise of surprise when he picks you up and nearly throws you on one of the library’s long tables. Parting your legs to let Michael stand between them, your lips connect to his again. He doesn’t hold back, nearly brutalizing your lips with the pressure he’s applying on them while his tongue quickly slips into your mouth. You tangle your fingers in his long hair, a constant subject of fascination for you. Every part of you that’s touched by Michael makes you feel as though you’re burning, fire trailing in his wake. Much to your chagrin, he pulls away from you.

“Let me show you just how happy you’ve made me.” Michael sinks to his knees in front of you, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as you watch him hook his fingers around your panties and quickly pull them down your body.

“Michael,” you say lowly, staring at him intently.

“Shh.” His breath fans over you as he eyes your core, already dripping with arousal, hungrily, making you squirm under his intense gaze. “Let me  _ worship _ you, my queen.”

Your head falls back when his tongue circles your clit, tracing shapes on the sensitive bud as Michael sets out towards showing you how happy he is. He takes his time exploring your most intimate parts, finding your whines and moans almost as sweet as the taste of you. When two of his large fingers slip inside of you, you clap a hand over your mouth to keep from yelling out. 

“Don’t hide those delicious screams from me,” Michael mutters against your core, making you jolt against him. He hums his approval when you moan loudly, rewarding you with a curl of his fingers against your walls. “Let everybody hear just how well their queen is being taken care of.”

“Oh my God!” you say through gritted teeth, burying your fingers in Michael’s hair as if you can’t decide whether you want him to stop or continue.

“Hmm, we’ve already established that I am, in fact, your God.” 

Michael sucks your clit into his mouth, humming a tune as he continues to finger you at the same time. Even when you cum with a shout and a near-painful yank at his scalp, he continues to lap at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. You have to steady yourself with both arms when you stop shaking, staring down at Michael with wide eyes as he puts his fingers, covered in your release, in his mouth.

“You, my darling, are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” When you reach for Michael, he stands and meets your lips with his, smirking as you keen at the taste of yourself on his tongue. 

“Fuck me, Michael, please,” you nearly plead with him to finally take you right here, in the middle of the Underworld’s grand library.

“Oh, sweet (Y/N),” Michael ‘tsk’s, undoing his trousers with one hand while he strokes your hair with the other, “I’m not going to fuck you. I’m going to make love to you.”

Your gaze softens as you look up at him above you, running your fingers over the smooth contour of his cheekbone while he slowly, yet swiftly, enters you. As your jaw goes slack from the pressure and fullness that Michael provides when he’s fully seated inside your walls, you let your head fall into the crook of Michael’s neck. You busy yourself with sucking purple bruises on his smooth ivory skin, trying to channel the sting you’re feeling from his still-unfamiliar size into creating a work of art. His hand grabs at your hair, gently pulling you up to look at him. 

“I love you, (Y/N),” he says sincerely, eyes conveying just how deeply his feelings run. Smiling, you kiss him softly.

“I love you too, Michael.” 

Michael lays his forehead against yours, slowly starting to rock his hips against yours. He was right when he said that he wasn’t going to fuck you: this is the slowest, sweetest, most loving sexual experience you’ve ever had, even with both of you still mostly clothed. Somehow, it’s even more intimate than the first time you and Michael had sex. The sweet words that he whispers into your ear, about how he adores your caring spirit, your radiant smile, the fire that courses through your veins, mean more than any of the prior praises of how tight you were for him. If this is making love, you decide, you never want to stop making love with Michael. 

His hands hold onto yours tightly as he continues to thrust deeply inside of you. If you could, you’d want this experience to last forever. Pleasure, however, wins out, and Michael reaches to rub at your clit with his thumb. Ever the gentleman, he focuses on his breathing and paces himself in order to get you off first. You’re determined to make this last, but your body betrays you as you clench around Michael and cum, mouth open in a yell that falls silent on your lips. Michael’s hips stutter as he reaches his own release, arms nearly giving out from the exertion as he remains inside of your tight heat. 

When you manage to breathe normally again, you wrap your arms around Michael and pull him down on top of you. You know he’s worried about crushing you, sensing his hesitation, but your vice like grip prevents him from moving off of you. He remains in the same position with you until he’s satisfied that you’re not going to inadvertently choke him when he tries to get off of you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, moving your messy hair out of your face. Grabbing his hand and kissing his fingers, you nod.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been better than I am right now,” you admit.

Michael conjures a wet cloth from nothing, gently cleaning you before he cleans himself up. You reposition your dress, pulling it back down from where it was hiked up to your hips. Michael only has to tuck himself back into his pants and smooth out his clothes before somehow looking just as regal as he did before you made the mutual decision to defile a library.

“Michael,” you hold out your hand expectantly. “My underwear?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Michael winks, snickering when you lightly smack his chest.

“Cocky bastard,” you hiss, your attempt at looking angry failing when Michael pulls you to his chest. 

“Shall we, my queen?”

“I think I could get used to you calling me that.”

Michael smirks, crooning softly in your ear, “oh, my sweet, darling Queen (Y/N), Lady of the Underworld.  _ My _ (Y/N).” You close your eyes as he holds you, a content smile on your face. 

“I wish we could just stay like this.”

“I do too, love. But we do, unfortunately, have other duties to attend to.”

“Such as?” You turn around to look at him. 

“Well, I believe that I may have a way to make it possible for you to come and go as you please, without fear of dying if you remain here too long.”

“Oh?” You’re a little apprehensive, and it’s not at all surprising that he can tell. 

“Just trust me on this.” He holds out his hand, looking at you expectantly. “So? Care for a little adventure?”

You’re basically a pro at transmuting by now, the action being as natural as riding a bike. You’re bathed in sunlight, standing by the banks of a rushing river. Just when you’re starting to wonder if Michael’s brought you Above, the blazing eyes of Charon meet yours as he champions his ferry of souls down the River Styx. 

“Does he get any less creepy after being here for a while?” you ask.

“No,” Michael deadpans. 

“Figured. So?” You look around, trying to find some sort of ominous cave or treasure chest, something that would hold the key to being allowed to stay in the Underworld. “What are we looking for?”

“Come here.” Michael grabs your hand, walking with you along the river bank. It would almost be a perfect day, were you not in the Underworld looking for some magical cure-all. 

He leads you into a grove of trees, all ironically flourishing in their environment. Their branches stretch far above your head, the trees either having been here since the beginning of time or just an elaborate illusion that Michael created. There’s so many, enough that just walking a few paces into this grove makes it feel like you’re in the middle of an endless forest. The leaves, full and overlapping, form a canvas to shield from the harsh mid-afternoon sun. You’re not sure if it even is mid-afternoon, or if the sun is constantly like this in this particular part of Michael’s domain, but that’s a question for another time.

“Michael--” you stop upon looking down from the tops of the trees, finding no sign of Michael in front of you. “Michael?”

“Come and find me!” Although his voice echoes all around you, you can’t see him or find where his voice is coming from. 

“What do you mean, come and find you?” Begrudgingly, you pick a direction and start walking.

“Wrong way,” he teases, sounding like he’s right behind you. You whip around, thinking that you’ve caught him, and frown when you come up with nothing.

“You’re annoying, do you know that?” you shout, shaking your head when you hear him laugh. 

“You love it, though.”

Starting to walk faster, you keep your eyes up in an attempt to find Michael. This is a competition now, and it’s one that you’re determined to win. “Michael!” you trill. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“I’m right behind you,” his voice rings in your ear and you grin, knowing that you’ve got him. 

“Ha!” you declare, spinning around to catch him. He’s not there, and you huff. “What--?”

When you turn around, you shriek, Michael standing right in front of you. His face is mere inches from yours, and he’s got a devil’s grin lighting up his eyes. 

“Found you,” he says huskily.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of what you were supposed to do.”

“Forgive me for my impatience.” He holds out his hands, which you hadn’t realized were folded behind his back.

Nestled within his grasp lies a fruit. Examining it, the irony of being tempted by such a fruit in the middle of the Underworld is not lost on you. The fruit’s at the perfect ripeness, plump and round in a way that orchard owners around the world would die for. Michael’s ivory skin contrasts with the deep red color of the fruit as he showcases it to you. 

“It’s a...pomegranate?” Michael nods at your guess, smiling as if it’s a gift. “You know we have pomegranates Above, right?”

“Yes, I am aware.  _ However _ , this is no ordinary pomegranate. Do you remember the first evening we dined together?” It’s difficult for you to forget that night, the one in which you fought Michael (again), ran away, and nearly got devoured by a demon.

“Yeah, of course. You saved me from that demon.”

“Even before that.”

“Before…?” Your brow furrows as you try to figure out what he’s talking about.

“When I brought you food to get you to break your fast. Can you recall what I said to you then? What binds people to the Underworld, (Y/N)?”

“The fruit that you can only find from a single tree that grows along the banks of the River Styx,” you mutter. “Then this is that fruit?”

“Mhm.” Michael smirks, tossing the fruit to you. 

Fumbling with it, you manage to recover and hold it in your hands. The symbolic weight of this small fruit is far heavier than it would appear to be, and it feels as though you’re carrying the weight of the world in your grasp. This saga has lasted months, and finally it seems like this could be coming to an end. It’s exciting but also frightening.

“One bite,” Michael whispers sensually in your ear, “and you’re mine.” 

You’re entranced by the god in front of you, staring up at him as his thumb traces circles on your cheek. “Wait…” you murmur, trying not to get swept up in your captivating lover.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Not knowing what’s going to happen once I bite into that, that’s what’s stopping me.” Michael cocks his head, obviously confused. 

“Oh yes, the humanity issue.” You push the fruit towards him, your hand touching his chest.

“Michael,” you say seriously. “I’m not going to eat that fruit until I know I won’t lose my humanity and that I won’t be bound here forever.”

He sighs, nodding begrudgingly. “Let me...talk to a few friends.”

“Friends? You have friends?” Michael rolls his eyes, pinching your arm.

“Surprisingly enough, yes. These are old friends, however. We go back hundreds of years.”

“More god friends?” Your eyes widen in glee.

“Yes, but they’re not gods like Madison, Zoe, or myself.”

“So they’re not Greek, then.”

Michael smirks widely, juggling the fruit from one hand to another as he takes immense glee in dangling this secret above your head. “Guess you’ll have to come with me to find out, won’t you?”


	20. Word to the Wise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to the Fates leads you one step closer to immortality and a never-ending future with Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to a new chapter of AASB! Again, sorry for taking so long with posting this, but shit happens. Am I shooting myself in the foot by posting this at noon on a Sunday? Potentially. Am I just so damn excited to release this that I can’t wait any longer? Absolutely. Feedback is always appreciated and, if you enjoyed, I would love if you left a kudos or a comment.

If you had thought the Underworld to be vast before, discovering there’s an entire cave system beneath Hell smashes your former mental blueprint to bits. At this point, nothing about the Underworld, or anything involving Michael, should surprise you, but it still manages to catch you off-guard. Michael grips your hand as you stumble down the uneven ground, eyes fixated on the crystals that seem to grow from the ceiling of the caves.

“Y’know, when you insinuated your friends weren’t Greek, I thought you were actually giving me a hint and we’d go somewhere exciting, like Norway,” you say before nearly tripping over a rock.

“And I thought you would know by now that I’m almost never going to tell you the truth when you ask me to reveal something.”

“A girl can only hope, Michael.” The cave seems as if it’s never-ending, and you strain your eyes to see in the semidarkness. “Who lives all the way down here, a hydra?”

“Yes, but not in this particular area.”

Your eyes widen. “Damn, I was joking, but that’s good to know.”

“How much do you know about the Moirai?” At the bemused look on your face, he elaborates. “The Fates?”

“They...control peoples’ fates?” you say slowly, knowing that Michael will be happy with any answer you give him, even if it’s the wrong one.

“They write out the strands of fate for everyone, mortal or god.”

“Well, guess that philosophical debate has now been solved.” Michael snickers quietly. “So, we’re going to see what they know about different ways to go about this whole immortality business?”

“I’m hoping that if I call in a couple of favors, the Fates will give us a small glimpse of your future. Just enough to know where we need to be going in order to find immortality.”

Michael stops you in front of what, at first, looks to be a dead end. You’re about to turn to him and ask where a wrong turn was made when you notice small cracks that form a square. 

“Secret door?” you can barely contain your excitement; out of all of the wild and fantastical things you’ve gotten to see and do since Michael whisked you down the Hellmouth, exploring secret doors was not one of them.

(Secret hallways, yes, but that was a disaster that you never want to relive)

“Yes, a secret door,” Michael smiles at you. “Would you like to do the honors?”

If Michael thought your wonder upon seeing the Underworld’s library was childlike, that hardly compares to the guileless surprise on your face now. 

“Seriously?” He nods, and you stifle a squeal that wouldn’t be very becoming of the future queen of this realm. 

Placing your hand on the rock, a simple push is all that it takes for the door to swing open as if it’s made of paper, revealing an entire warehouse inside of what you thought would be a small cavern. There’s shelves upon shelves of what looks to be rows of film, are stretching back for at least a mile. While it seems like an operation so large would be hectic, it’s actually quite calm. Some upbeat 80s pop music plays in the distance, and a small woman with dark skin and wild curls sits at a large desk in front of you. She’s hunched over an enlarger, forehead creased in concentration as she sifts through some film. It’s only when Michael clears his throat that she looks up, gasping in excitement.

“King Hades!” she greets, eyes flickering to you. “And you’ve brought your consort!” 

Michael begins to shake his head. “No, not yet, remem-” but the woman is in front of you in a flash, almost bouncing in excitement.

“We’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, (Y/N),” she smiles widely at you.

“So long, in fact, we were beginning to worry that we were going to be wrong about something for the first time in history!” a voice chimes in from the back, the sweet soprano tone echoing through the shelves. Although you try not to laugh, Michael’s red cheeks ruin that gimmick for you.

“Clotho,” Michael calls, “always one to hide where I can’t see you when you decide to make one of your infamous comments.”

A younger girl with her curls done up in a bun, although still identical to the one gripping your hands, skips out from between the shelves of film. “Oh my, she’s even prettier than what was prophesied!” 

Now it’s your cheeks that heat up. “You flatter me, really.”

“(Y/N), these are two of the three Fates. Clotho,” he gestures to the teenage girl, “is assigned the present. Lachesis,” the one holding onto you, “works solely on the future. Where’s Atropos?”

“Hmm, she’s around here somewhere,” Clotho says, scanning the room for any sign of the missing Fate.

“Sister!” Lachesis calls out. “Sister, come say hello!”

“One moment!” A door opens off to the side of the shelves, and another girl, even younger than Clotho, beams at you. “Hello!”

“Atropos,” Michael greets the Fate, who looks to be only 10.

“So you control the past, then?” you ask, watching her curls bounce as she nods. It makes sense, then, why each girl is younger than her sister. Place the three chronologically and it’s three different stages of development: past, present, and future.

“What brings you to our domain today, Hades?” Lachesis asks.

“We were hoping you could help us with an answer we’re searching for.” Michael follows the three as they walk towards the desk, leaving you no choice but to follow with them.

“And what question are you looking to have answered?”

“You’re all probably aware that I can’t stay here for an extended period of time,” you take over the explanation.

Clotho nods. “Yes, although it was very impressive to watch you complete the Seven Wonders with so little formal training.”

“Then you know that we’re currently searching for a more permanent way for me to stay here?”

“Of course we know, we’re the ones that wrote out how this would go,” Clotho says haughtily, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t be rude, sister,” Lachesis quips, “mortals don’t learn about us like they used to.” 

“Remind us, (Y/N), what methods have you already sought out?”

“Besides the Seven Wonders? Just the pomegranates that grow on the banks of the River Styx, but I worry that I’ll lose my humanity and my ability to go back Above if I eat a fruit that binds me to the Underworld.”

“You were right to be wary,” Atropos says. “We’ve seen far too many mortals eat the entire fruit, not being aware of the consequences.”

“Which are?”

“Being bound to the Underworld is a big one, but you also lose claim over your soul.”

You look at Michael with accusing eyes. “You knew, and yet you still offered that pomegranate to me!”

“I was hoping that it would affect you differently, being that you’re meant to be Queen of the Underworld,” Michael attempts to explain patiently.

“Great, so you were potentially risking my soul based solely on a hunch.”

“I figured that, if that were to occur, I could simply give your soul back to you. There’s not exactly an instruction manual for mortals coming into my kingdom and eating the fruit from one specific tree that would then keep them here.”

“Your theory doesn’t make me feel any better about possibly dying once again, Michael.” One of the Fates awkwardly clears her throat, and you can feel embarrassment welling in your stomach like a balloon. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have been fighting like that. Are...are there any other possible solutions besides the pomegranate?”

The three sisters look at each other, having a silent conversation that seems to stretch on for decades. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment, we’d like to discuss this privately. There’s certain parts of a future that we cannot reveal, but we do want to help you,” Lachesis says apologetically. 

“Please, take as much time as you need,” Michael murmurs, waving off their apologies. The Fates disappear through the door the youngest sister came through minutes before, Michael’s eyes on you the moment the door shuts.

“I’m not mad at you, Michael,” you say quietly. 

“You should be. I was careless, and I got ahead of myself without thinking of the possible consequences. I put your life, your  _ soul _ , at stake, simply because I was...I was…”

“You were being stupid is what you were doing.”

Michael nods. “Yes, because I was being stupid. Very stupid, in fact. I’m not used to mortals, my darling, but that is no excuse. I need to learn, especially if we are to be together and you are to retain your humanity. I apologize for my actions in tempting you to eat that fruit, without knowing of the possible effects.”

“I told you that I wasn’t mad at you. I’m just frustrated; you need to learn that we are a couple, and that there are two of us involved in whatever decisions you may make from here on out. I love you, Michael, but my life is much more fragile than yours. I don’t want to take a risk and die and lose you forever.”

“Am I forgiven, then?” Michael’s blue eyes are wide as he pleads with you to not hate him.

“Of course you’re forgiven.” Michael grips your face in his hands and kisses your forehead gratefully. “But  _ don’t _ do something like this again, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Michael smirks at your unintentional pun, but nods. “Never, love.”

The door opens at that moment, and you and Michael both step apart to resume your previous positions, albeit this time holding hands. Although the eldest is able to conceal her feelings well, her younger sisters prove to not be as well-versed in this skill.

“We have reached an agreement,” Lachesis says, while at the same time Clotho gleefully notices that “you two have made up, then?”

“As if you weren’t aware that this would happen?” You quirk an eyebrow towards the sisters, although you couldn’t be mad at the smiles on their round faces.

“Sometimes there needs to be a bit of conflict in order for couples to become stronger,” Clotho proclaims cryptically. You can’t possibly question the motives of the people who dictate how your life will go, so you simply nod.

“As to the issue of alternate possibilities for immortality?” Michael asks.

“All we can advise you is to ask Hera about golden apples.”

“Golden apples?” You’re visibly confused, and Michael looks to be as well.

“Surely there is something else you can tell us about what else we can do?” Michael prods.

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s not.”

“In that case, I thank you for your wisdom and advice with this matter.” The three Fates bow their heads gracefully as Michael leads you out of the cavern, knowing there’s nothing else that they can say.

“What was that even supposed to mean?” you ask incredulously after the door is closed once more and the wall goes back to looking solid. “Ask your sister about golden apples? Are they tripping on acid or something?”

“I can assure you that they are not partaking in any sort of drug usage. The rules on what they can and cannot divulge, however, are extremely strict.”

“Sort of like  _ Back to the Future _ , then.” Michael looks confused. “It’s a movie, basically he goes to the past and, when he arrives back to the future, everything’s screwed up because of his actions in the past.”

“Yes, then the rules are the same as that in your movie. We must work with what we have, although I’ve never heard anything about Violet and golden apples.”

You shrug. “Let’s go ask her, then! Where does she live? Olympus?”

“No, actually. She prefers to live like a mortal in Oregon.”

“Sounds like Violet.”

Michael smiles. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Can we come and go as we please, now that Satan’s trapped in Cocytus?” Michael’s eyes twinkle with excitement, and he pulls you towards him.

“Show me the Above, beloved.”

Michael transmutes you Above, since you have no clue where in Oregon you’re supposed to be going. You’re in an alleyway, the gray overcast sky lightly sprinkling rain on you. At first, you’re not sure why you’re secluded, but then you look down and realize that you’re both still in the fine dress of the Underworld. With barely a passing thought, you change your outfit to a cozy pink sweater and a pair of light wash jeans, toes flexing comfortably in a pair of sneakers. Michael’s still dressed in all black, and looks as if he came out of a business meeting, but it’s enough of a change that nobody will cast a second glance at his attire. 

“You look cute,” Michael says with a small smile, “this style of clothing suits you.”

“Cute enough for you to relax your rules about me only wearing dresses made Below?”

Michael doesn’t say anything as he begins to walk out of the alley with you, but the glance he gives you is confirmation enough that jeans and t-shirts are in your future. Walking through the glass doors into an apartment building, you shoot a smile and a wave at the security guard, who waves back. 

“What was that?” Michael mutters, waiting as you press the button for the elevator.

“Basic human decency.”

“Ha,” Michael laughs dryly, standing awkwardly in the elevator as you look at him expectantly. “What?”

“Which floor does your sister live on?”

“Oh, yes.” He jabs at the button to the top floor, which is not at all surprising.

“Should we have called ahead? I feel a little rude just showing up unexpected.”

“Knowing Violet, she’ll be on the other side of the doors when they--” the elevator dings and the doors open, proving Michael right when you’re both faced with Violet’s sweet smile.

“What a surprise!” She nearly dislocates your shoulder as she pulls you into a hug, trying to get out a muffled greeting with her hair in your face.

“Violet, you’re going to smother her,” Michael chuckles, pulling his sister away from you so that he can hug her as well. She gives him a one-armed hug, her other hand holding her large-brimmed hat to her head. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“Nonsense, it’s never a bad time for either of you to show up. Come,” she begins to walk down the hall, swinging open the door to a large, airy apartment.

The floor-length windows allow muted sunshine to fill the apartment, helping to grow the variety of plants that sit on tables and the floor. Music plays softly from a record player, and you can smell some sort of citrus wafting from the kitchen. A meow has you looking down at the ground, and you grin when a black cat with green eyes comes to rub up against your legs.

“Forgive Morrissey, he loves guests.”

You crouch down to pet the friendly animal between the ears. “I didn’t peg you as a Smiths fan, Vi.”

“I like the melancholic, angsty artists of the 70s and 80s.” The cat doesn’t offer any resistance when you go to pick him up, so you gather him in your arms and follow Violet and Michael to the living room. “So what brings you to my home today?”

“We were actually led here by the Fates,” Michael says as he accepts a cup of tea from Violet. You shake your head when she offers one to you, and she takes it for her own instead.

“Oh?”

“We went to them seeking answers about another potential alley for (Y/N)’s immortality, one that doesn’t involve her losing her humanity and also allows her to leave the Underworld for Above at her leisure. Obviously, if she ate the pomegranate that grows on the banks of the River Styx, she would most likely be bound to the Underworld forever.”

“How did I become involved in your conversation?”

“They said to ask you about golden apples, but that’s all they would say,” you speak up, Morrissey leaving your arms to curl up on Michael’s lap.

“Well, there’s a phrase I haven’t heard in a while. After young Heracles attempted to steal them from me, the world forgot about them, which is for the best.”

“Why are they so dangerous?”

“The golden apples that grow in my garden and are protected by the Hesperides give immortality to any mortal who takes a bite.” You gasp, and even Michael stiffens beside you.

“There’s no restrictions to it? It’s just...immortality?” Michael asks in disbelief, Violet nodding begrudgingly.

“Yes, but…”

“‘But’ what?”

“I’m wary of divulging the location of these to you, to  _ anybody _ . People have misused and abused these apples for centuries, even leading to wars.”

“Violet, I’m your  _ brother _ ,” Michael hisses.

“And Heracles was my husband’s son!” The cat growls in warning, hair standing up on his back as he hops off of Michael and hides at the tension growing thick in the room. Violet breathes deeply before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but you need to understand that these apples could cause the end of humanity if they fall into the wrong hands.”

“What if,” you think out loud, “what if you were to get the apple for us, Vi? Neither Michael nor I would know the location of your garden, and you’d be doing us an immense favor.”

“It’s a good idea, sister,” Michael chimes in.

“Yes, but there’s a million things that could go wrong on your way back to the Underworld.” You frown, but Violet’s eyes suddenly widen as she gets an idea. “Hold on. What if I did get the apple, and then had Hermes deliver it to you? That way, the location remains a secret, and it’s almost guaranteed that it will be delivered safely to you in the Underworld.”

“Oh, Violet!” You can’t help yourself from throwing your arms around her. “Thank you, you have no idea how much this means to me!”

“You have no idea how much this means to  _ us _ ,” Michael amends.

“As I’ve said before, (Y/N) will make a wonderful queen, and a wonderful addition to our family.” You pull away from her, allowing her to stand up and drift towards her bookshelf. “It will take me a day or so to acquire the apple. I cannot transmute as you and Michael can, so it will take a combination of meditation and other methods to get the apple. The moment I do, however, I will send it with Hermes to the Underworld.”

“What will we do while we wait?” You ask, not too fond of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs as you wait.

Michael smirks. “Enjoy your last day as a mortal, of course.”


End file.
